Zachariah (The Lord remembers)

Fifth Day of Advent

Luke 1:18-20 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 answered, "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 proper time."

Zachariah was a priest, and he was descended from Aaron the first High Priest of Israel, as was his wife, Elizabeth. That’s pedigree. And, furthermore, Luke says they were upright, even in God’s sight, and followed all the rules precisely. They never said, O, that’s good enough; they never cut a corner. They’d grown old together in the service of the Lord, and yet the one thing that she needed most, a baby, was denied, as was the thing he needed most, a happy wife.

In those days there were lots of priests, so many that the very special jobs were distributed by lot. And Zachariah won the lottery. The prize was burning incense in the temple and, though it might not seem like much to you and me, it was a very big deal. But when Zachariah’s big day came something happened for which he was completely unprepared. An angel came and told him that Elizabeth had won a lottery of her own. God had decided that it was her turn for a miracle and, even in her old age, she would have a baby.

Zachariah was surprised, to say the least, and must have lost his head for a minute, because he wondered right out loud if all this could be true. And, even worse, he asked the angel for a sign, a token of good faith. If he had held his tongue signs would have come in time, and in the natural way, but hindsight’s 20/20. Zachariah got his sign, nine months of speech impediment. Nine months to ponder what had happened and to wonder what this child might be. He also got a happy wife, and Elizabeth got a baby.

The big lesson in all of this cannot be understood until we see this baby as a man. He will be John the Baptist, God’s wild-man, offending both the people and the king, pointing the way to Jesus, and beheaded for his pains. What a daunting and bewildering task, to raise a child like this. And so the lesson: when, to your amazement, you find that you are upright in the sight of God, meticulous in obedience, and able to pray unanswered prayers for years and not give up, perhaps it isn’t really you at all. Perhaps it’s just that God is doing something in you, preparing you to do a work for him.

There is also, of course, a little lesson that is immediately apparent and for sure. If an angel comes and says your prayers are answered, prove it!, is definitely not the best response. Best to just say, thank you very much.

Elizabeth (God is my oath)

Fourth Day of Advent

Luke 1:13-17 Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to give him the name John. …he will be great in the sight of the Lord. … and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit even from birth. … he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, … — to make ready a people prepared for the Lord."

Some things a man will never understand,

like how to make a proper lentil soup,

and why a woman needs a baby.

My Zasha’s a good husband, but a man.

He’s loving, kind, and caring,

but he couldn’t make a Sabbath meal to save his life.

It’s not his fault.

I wept and prayed our married life away,

and then, in my old age, a miracle.

But no rain falls from cloudless skies;

I got a baby, Zasha got a stroke.

He couldn’t speak.

Our family and our friends

were more concerned than I can say.

But laughter’s like the weather,

welcome or unwelcome, it visits all occasions.

They joked that he was speechless with amazement,

or maybe just too old for making love.

And, in the end, it all worked out just fine.

But, then again, where does it really end?

My cousin’s daughter came to visit me

when I was six months gone.

- A hard time when you’re old

and sickness in the home. –

And she had problems of her own.

My baby late, and hers a little early.

But, as my mother used to say,

“We have troubles; never trouble.

Who ever had one measle or one mump?”

I knew that something strange was going on.

Not just my odd condition,

but Zasha and the angel in the Temple.

(He couldn’t speak, but he can write,

and I can read a little.)

The angel told him –this is what he said –

that John would be Elijah, coming first.

John? What’s this?

I have a hundred baby names; no Johns.

But Papa picks the name, and it is done.

(Still, what if it’s a girl?)

The day that Mary came

John fought, like he was trying to get out.

And something overtook me and I knew

that she was part of this.

I knew that, somehow, my Elijah

was an Esau to her Jacob,

twins, like night and day.

Mine/hers/mine/hers/mine/hers/mine/hers.

And different as the darkness and the light.

My John, first born,

but Mary’s first at last.

My Esau,

then her Jacob,

Night came first,

and has, forever,

come at last,

But still we know that,

in the end,

it will be day.

Joseph (The Lord increases)

Third Day of Advent

Matthew 1:24-25 When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus.

Well, Matthew didn’t spill much ink for me. Just a little confusion, a dream, and everything’s just fine. He says I’m a good fella, a righteous man. And maybe I am. Whole thing still gets me going though, even after all these years. He writes words on a scroll, but words don’t tell you much. The people and the places, the pain and shame and sorrow, and the laughing and the dancing too, everything that really matters lies between the lines.

When Mary’s father came to see me I just knew that there was something wrong. Perhaps it was the way the earth shook when he walked. Or maybe that he said he’d brought his brother along for my protection. He demanded to know just when “it” had happened. He stabbed his finger in my chest and said if I denied “it” he’d ask his brother to step outside. Very upsetting, very strange. He ordered me to take her “home” by Sabbath. I said I didn’t know what he was talking about. Definitely a low point in our relationship.

Perhaps I should explain. In our world young people don’t “date” the way they do in yours. As we come to the end of childhood, about 12 years old, a boy gets a bar mitzvah, and a girl gets a husband. At least she sometimes does. – The women have a saying, “Parties, like matzos, are made in a moment; husbands, like pearls, must be found”. And they always roll their eyes, like they’re thinking of some other husband. It’s just our way. – And when we marry young we don’t live together, and we’re never alone together, until the husband can support his wife. Sometimes this takes years. And sometimes, of course, a young husband and wife will “get together” before they really should. If a baby happens like this it’s awkward and embarrassing, but no real harm done. They just move in with one family or the other, and the town snickers and points.

But this was not my baby, and Mary obviously wasn’t telling much. No other man had access to her except her brothers, and her father, and the soldiers who were always everywhere. These were the obvious implications when I insisted that the baby wasn’t mine. So you can see why Mary’s father was enraged that I would “lie”, and why it was so hard for me to face the truth.

Now, Mary’s cousin, Elizabeth, - an old lady at the time - was having a surprise baby of her own. So Mary’s parents sent her off to visit her in the hill country. She really needed help, but the timing was convenient. They needed time to sort things out; I needed time to think things through. They wouldn’t let me see her, so I didn’t know if she was blaming me, or what she could be saying. I couldn’t work or eat or sleep. And then I had this crazy dream. I say it was a dream because when it was over I woke up, but it was not like any dream I’d had before.

There was this angel – I suppose that’s what it was – like a flame of fire. I don’t know where I was, if I was standing, sitting, or lying on my face. In fact, I don’t remember me at all, just fire. I thought of Moses and the burning bush, and wondered if I should take off my shoes, but I don’t think I did. Like I say, I don’t remember me at all.

Then, suddenly, I knew some things. It isn’t that the angel spoke exactly, its like he simply knew these things and then I knew them too. Like knowing something’s beautiful, you really know, but can’t say how you know. Like knowing something’s funny, and how explaining doesn’t work. I knew what Matthew says I knew; the baby was from God, I should take Mary home to live with me, and we should call the baby Jesus. No, I didn’t understand. Just knew.

When I took her for my wife, it seemed obvious to everyone I was confessing. But I don’t care. It is the obvious explanation, and when what’s obviously true is not the truth, you have to live with what is obvious. And even after all these years I still can’t explain it, not even to myself. And I still don’t quite know how I really know.

Gabriel (God is great)

Second Day of Advent

Fleeting vision of a flickering vapour,

Voice of insight, understanding,

Mystic murmur of the coming One,

Trumpet of the final day.

Before the mighty throne of God,

Whispering in the gentle maiden’s heart,

I am a flame of fire.

Good morning good Miriam,

No fretting, no fear.

So full of his presence and favour,

Chosen above all your sisters,

Obscure in this patch of the garden.

Unknown, unvalued, untilled and unplanted,

Guarded and cherished and kept for this day.

He is planting a lily within you, my child.

“His servant! O, let it be so!”

And, so, it was so.

Bitterness, Mary,

This lily has thorns.

Voice of insight, understanding.

Trumpet of the final day.

I am a flame of fire.

Daniel 8:16; 9:21; Luke 1:19; Luke 1:26-38

Mary, from Miriam (bitterness)

First Day of Advent

Luke 1:38 "I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said."

“I am the Lord’s servant.” What else could I say? Like Ruth, Deborah, Esther, I just am. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. But I really had no idea.

Sounds crazy, but when my mother realized I was pregnant I thought they’d all believe me. But I didn’t get a chance to say much. Mama was embarrassed and Daddy was furious. They assumed that it was Joseph, and when he denied it they thought that he was lying. They hoped, at least, that he was lying. What else could they hope?

They sent me to stay with relatives for a while. It’s what they do with all the girls when this happens. And Joseph started making plans to call off the marriage. That’s what they do when they’re not the father. Sometimes even when they are.

When I arrived at Aunt Elizabeth’s I was pretty nervous, but I got a huge surprise. She ran to me and hugged me and said she thought it was all just wonderful. She said her baby was jumping inside of her for joy, and that I was blessed, and my baby was even more special than hers. And she thanked me for coming, like I was doing her a favour.

It was then I found out about Uncle Zechariah’s illness. He couldn’t talk, but he wrote down for me about the angel who had come to him, and how he thought he’d be okay when the baby came. And by the time I left for home I had lots to think about. And things were better too. Joseph had had a dream and had asked my parents if we could just go ahead with everything. They took it as a confession, but he said he didn’t care what people thought. Amazing!

We had a little family celebration, people talked, and when it was about time Joseph and I went away to have our baby on our own. This is how we do things when babies come this way, and no one really wants to be involved.

And it actually worked out fine. Joseph had to go to Bethlehem for the census, and I just went along. The town was crowded with visitors and we couldn’t find any place to stay, so we had our first born in the corner of a little animal shelter. And his first little bed was a manger of all things. It wasn’t the way I wanted to have my first baby, but it wasn’t really so bad. It was actually a warm spring night, not in December as you imagine. We were okay.

Some shepherds dropped by to see us and it was all pretty awkward for everyone. It’s bad enough having a baby in a stable, without people you don’t even know showing up. They asked the usual questions; “When was he born?” “Couple hours ago.” “What ya gonna call him?” “Jesus.” And they told everyone that angels had sent them. People thought they were crazy. They thought they were crazy. But, by then, I was getting kinda used to angels. They were turning up everywhere. So I just added this to the list of strange things that were happening. So much to think about.

Over the years my life has been amazing. Sometimes everything was so normal I’d almost forget that there was anything different about Jesus. And then something would happen and it would start all over again. Sometimes he'd say dark things about the end that was coming, but I could never think that way. And, even after all these years, I still can hardly bear to think about it. O, to see your little boy like that.

Over the years they’ve called me lots of things: Blessed Virgin, Queen of Heaven, Mother of God. I know they mean well, but I like Servant of the Lord. It’s all I’ve ever been, and all I’ve ever really wanted to be. And if he asked me to do it all again, what would I say? “I am the Lord’s servant.” What else could I say? Like Ruth, Deborah, Esther, I just am.

Luke 1:1 – 2:20

Artwork - The Annunciation - Henry Ossawa Tanner 1898

What Can We Do in Twenty-Five Days?

Isaiah 40:3

A voice of one calling:

"In the desert prepare the way for the LORD;

make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God.

The season of Advent is a season of preparation. It includes the four Sundays prior to Christmas so it’s about four weeks long, but it varies in length from year to year. If Christmas day is a Sunday, for example, Advent lasts a full four weeks, ending on Saturday, Christmas Eve. But if Christmas Day falls on a Monday, Advent’s only three weeks long, ending on the fourth Sunday but having no fourth week. This year Advent begins on November 30^th and lasts twenty-five days.

Just twenty-five days to:

• complete our Christmas shopping,
• decorate the house and do the baking,
• plan the parties or prepare for the trip back home,
• get exams and papers out of the way,
• lose more weight than can possibly be lost in a 25 day period filled with Christmas parties.

No wonder so many of us will wake up on December 26^th to discover that Christmas passed us by again and left us feeling empty and alone. But it isn’t Christmas, it's we who have passed by.

So, beginning on Sunday, November 30^th, plan to take a few minutes each day to reflect with me. I’ll post a meditation on an element of Christmas – usually a biblical character, sometimes not – together with a text. The postings will vary in length (probably somewhere between a little too long and a little too short), but I hope each one will open up the story a little for you, or suggest something you hadn’t seen before.

Just twenty-five days:

• to gather up our gratitudes and tie them with a bow,
• to sow the things we hope to reap, and reap the things we sow,
• and tell someone we’re sorry, or let an old hurt go,
• or tell a friend we love her, or one we barely know,
• and find the rushing torrent, and plunge beneath the flow of the love poured out on Bethlehem that day so long ago.

The biblical Christmas story is found in the first three chapters of Matthew and Luke.

The Celebration at the Heart of Everything

John 3:17 God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.

I expect most of us are aware these days that we don’t really know the birth date of Jesus, so there is, at best, only a 1 in 365 chance that he was born on December 25^th. And actually the odds are even longer than that because the scant information we do have, shepherds out in the hills with their flocks and Rome requiring people to travel for a census, make a winter date most unlikely. So what are we to make of this Christmas thing?

Well, frankly, Christians have often found, not just the timing but Christmas itself problematic. The Puritans, for example, upon discovering that Christmas was not observed in Jesus’ day, or by the early church, promptly decided it must be a sinful, and probably Roman Catholic encroachment upon true biblical faith. So, when they came to power in Scotland, they actually passed laws against it, making it a crime to celebrate the birth of Jesus, or perhaps a misdemeanor. These laws remained in effect for a century or so, and contributed a good deal to the general impression that the Puritans were a little too serious for their own good. The Jehovah’s Witnesses, who are also too serious, have thrown their lot in with the Puritans on this one, as have a number of other Christian sects. But God is good and, in the post Puritan world, these folks have never been in charge anywhere outside their own homes. So the rest of us have been left to revel in our iniquity.

As you’ve probably surmised, I am a fan of Christmas. I love it all: the lights and trees, the gifts, shepherds, magi and all the rest. I love the carols and winter songs, turkey, plum pudding, candy canes, eggnog, snow, Santa, reindeer, wreaths, mistletoe, ivy, candles, worship services, Scrooge, Tiny Tim, even the Grinch. Which is to say, the following might just be excuses for what I want to do anyway. So, if you’re one of those people who believes that Christmas is merely a pagan feast with a pinch of Jesus added, you just might want to bail on me till January. But if you’re looking for someone who’s figured out how to have it all and Jesus too, you’ve come to the right place. So, get out the nut cracker, here’s my theory in a nutshell.

- The first century Jews didn’t celebrate birthdays so, of course, Jesus never celebrated his birthday, and the earliest church didn’t think to celebrate it either.

- When the gospel got to Europe, however, Christ began to gather up people who did. They each had a birthday, their parents had birthdays, the lord of the manner had a birthday, the king had a birthday.

- So it was pretty well impossible for these folks to go along celebrating all these birthdays and ignore the one who they had come to consider the King of kings, and Lord of lords.

- And they also had a feast called Yuletide, which coincided with one called Saturnalia that the Romans had. These feasts took place toward the end of December because about this time the sun began to make its way back north bringing light and warmth and spring and summer and pretty much all the things that make life good and livable.

- So these new Christians began to celebrate the coming of Jesus, who they believed was the real bringer of all these things, instead of the coming of the sun which was very nice of course, but only a ball of fire in the sky provided by the God who loved them and whose birthday they thought should matter.

- Tree decorating, log burning, ivy, mistletoe, etc., were part of the original feasts and they just came along with these new Christians.

What I am suggesting is that those who claim that Christians have just gathered up a pagan feast and baptized it are on to something, but they haven’t got it quite right. It’s not the Christians who gathered anything up and baptized it, it’s Christ. And it’s not the pagan feast, but the pagans who got gathered up and baptized. Christmas is just the sort of thing that happens when Jesus lets the riffraff in.

I love Christmas because the riffraff in question are my ancestors, and Jesus loved them just as he loves you and me. He gathered them up, with their birthdays and Yule logs and all the rest, just like he gathers everyone. He loved the idea of Yuletide and Saturnalia, like he loves Chinese gongs, African drums, and rock ‘n’ role. In fact, I actually think we get these ideas from him.

You see, he has been preparing all of us forever, encouraging us to be thankful and to celebrate the gift of life. He’s been drawing all of us toward the centre, and all our celebrations are anticipations of the celebration that’s at the heart of everything. And that celebration is Yuletide, but not really; it’s Saturnalia, but not quite; it’s birthdays, gongs and drums and rock ‘n’ roll, but not actually; it’s Christmas, but not precisely. The celebration at the heart of everything is Jesus.