“Zechariah’s Voice”

Luke 1:57-80

A sermon preached by the Rev. Douglas M. Donley

December 7, 2003

University Baptist  Church

Minneapolis, MN

 

            Picture this if you will (as with all biblical stories, see if you can see yourself in any of this):

            It’s ancient Judah around 4BCE by our calculations.  Elizabeth in her old age had just given birth to her first-born son.  Zechariah, the dad, who should have been beaming, had been all but in mourning for the past nine months.  Not only was he felling sorry for himself, him being old and feeble and now having a child that he had long before given up hope of having, but he knew what Gabriel had said to him nine months earlier.  He told Zechariah that his son would eat bugs, call on people to repent of their complicity to a sinful world structure, and wear way too much leather for his taste.  What father in his right mind, he thought, would want his son to grow up to be a Baptist preacher?

            Not only that, but he had lost the ability to speak.  This man who had made his living as a priest and was used to having people lean on his every word was now mute.  He could no longer take center stage.  Elizabeth now held that place of honor.  People started seeking out Elizabeth’s counsel, not his.  Even Mary, also unexpectedly pregnant sought out Elizabeth.  He felt like a fish out of water.  He didn’t know who he was.  Without his voice, who was he?—he often wondered in the silence that engulfed his brain, as more and more people ignored him.

            His friends decided to help him out.  Eight days after his son was born, the people got ready for the traditional Jewish naming ceremony.   It was a big deal.  They brought the family up to the temple.  The child would be presented for all to see, the priest would mumble some words and the daddy would get to say what his name was.  Of course it was a forgone conclusion what his name was going to be.  Everyone knew that this was the time when Zechariah got to declare that this was Zechariah Junior.  By giving him that name, he bestowed upon him all of the rights and privileges of a first-born son which included inheriting the land and whatever fortune the family had, being the de-facto head of the household, and even holding more power than his mother. 

            This was the moment that Zechariah had waited for and prayed for his whole life.  This was the time when Zechariah became immortal because his family name would continue.  It was the time when he could finally let go and live out his life in obscurity, assured of honor for his family.

            But something had happened to old Zechariah during his prolonged silence.  Something began stirring within him.  Without his talking, he became introspective. 

He took a long look at his life, his priorities. 

He looked again at the scrolls he so dutifully preached from week after week. 

He paid particular attention to the prophets and their displeasure with the clergy.

He thought of all of the hurtful things he had said over the years, especially the hurtful things he said in the name of religion. 

In his silence, he thought of his own mother’s comment “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” 

He looked upon Elizabeth with new eyes.  To tell the truth, he doted on her like he had never done in the past 50 years of their marriage. 

He began to think less about himself and more about the purpose of his life. 

He realized for the first time that we are given two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, a whole body and a whole heart for feeling and yet only one mouth.  For the first time, without his voice, he was aware of the depth of beauty, emotion and power there was in the world.  He felt no further reason to speak. 

An eastern mystic even came up to him once and imparted some wisdom from the Buddha: 

“The thought manifests as the word. 

The word manifests as the deed. 

The deed develops into habit. 

The habit hardens into character. 

So watch the thought and its ways with care. 

Let it spring from love born out of concern for all living things.” 

New thoughts were inhabiting Zechariah’s brain. 

He was no longer thinking of only himself. 

He was thinking about his son. 

He was thinking about the world his son would inherit. 

He was thinking about the world and the religion he had helped perpetuate.

He was thinking about what he might be able to teach him. 

He was thinking of what God might want for his son and for the world.

Zechariah’s buddies knew of his speech impediment and they decided to speak for him.  They were about to do the old traditional thing, even had Zechariah Junior carved in teak wood to go over his cradle as a naming gift, when old Elizabeth stood up.  She said to everyone’s horror, “his name is John.”  How dare a woman speak in the temple let alone take away the sacred naming rights only given to the daddy.  The men, who had been pretty uncomfortable with what they called Elizabeth’s uppityness gave a piece of parchment to Zechariah.  They knew he would settle things.  Zechariah wrote something down, and then took a deep breath, gazed toward heaven and spoke for the first time.  And this time when he spoke, he had something worth saying, something worth listening to.  He said, “His name is John.” 

            With those words, Zechariah broke with tradition. 

He broke with patriarchy. 

He broke with expectations. 

He broke with his comfort zone. 

He sided with Elizabeth. 

And when he did so, he let flow a prophetic power which he didn’t know he had in him.  He sang a song:

            “Praise be to the God of Israel who has redeemed her people.  God has raised up a mighty savior from the house of David, as was spoken by the prophets of old, that we would be saved from our enemies and all who hate us.  God has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors and has remembered the covenant made with them.  We will be rescued from our enemies and will serve God without fear in holiness and righteousness.

            And you, John will be called the prophet of the Most High and you will prepare the way for the messiah.  You’ll give knowledge of salvation and forgiveness of sins to God’s people by God’s tender mercy.” (Luke 1:68-78)

            John’s cousin Jesus, whom he made a Baptist too, would say that we shall know the truth and the truth shall set us free.  Zechariah was able to speak, because he spoke the truth.  It did not win him friends.  In fact it cost him dearly in terms of the expectations he had had for his life.  It cost him friends.  But it also set him free.  He had married his soul and his wife and son’s souls with the soul of God.  In doing so, he helped pave the way for Jesus’ ultimate work of redemption of the whole lot of us.

            Sisters and brothers, talk is cheap.  Words that are not grounded in action don’t mean a whole lot.  So make sure what you say is worthwhile and worth listening to.  Tomorrow night, at our meeting with representatives of the Green Lake Board of Directors, our task is to speak the truth with love and to hear the truth from their perspective.  We need to make our words fit our feelings.  We covet your prayers as we embark on this event of breaking silence.  We pray that our words be worthy of the depth of emotion and power in this congregation.  Words are so important.  People in our lives deserve to hear things worth saying.

            Today, we celebrate not only the resurrection of Zechariah’s voice and the naming of the very first Baptist.  We celebrate the ability each of us has to know the truth, be set free by the truth and to say the things that matter the most to those who matter the most.

            That’s a great Christmas gift to give to a people and a world in need.

            We give birth each day.  That birth for some is physical, for others it is metaphysical.  When we give voice to our deepest longings, we are expressing our hope for the world. 

            I hope to be like Zechariah, a preacher who knows when to speak and when to be silent and listen.  I hope this season that we will not be so quick to speak that we fail to hear, to see, to sense, to taste and to feel what is all around us.

            I hope and pray that when we use our voices, they will be used for healing, hope and obedience to the new thing that God has in store for us all.

            Maybe we can be like the old hymn writer Clara Scott and sing with her and others across the generations:

“Open my mouth and let me bear

Gladly the warm truth ev’rywhere;

Open my heart, and let me prepare

Love with Thy children thus to share;

Silently now I wait for Thee,

Ready, my God, Thy will to see;

Open my heart, illumine me, Spirit divine.”

 Amen.