Luke 1:5-25
Over the years, I have been thankful for the opportunities to complete several items on my bucket list:
Hiking out west with our daughter, Liz
Evensong at Westminster Abbey
A pint at The Eagle and Child, the bar where Tolkien and C.S. Lewis mused about the meaning of life
A train trip across our beautiful country
Living in a great city like New York
Each of these experiences has added to my sense of the fullness of life and the beauty of this world. For several of these, I waited a good number of decades to complete them.
The priests of Israel all had the same item on their bucket list—to enter the sanctuary and offer incense. This was more than a typical item on a bucket list. It was done at the altar made with gold and acacia wood, which was placed at the veil that separated the rest of the temple from the Holy of Holies—the very place where God resided. It was as if the priest was literally going into the presence of God to offer prayers for all of Israel. It was the crystallization and culmination of their life’s work and an affirmation that God’s blessing was upon them. They could only do it once in their lifetime, and it took the luck of the dice to have the opportunity.
So long ago, that lot fell to Zechariah.
He entered the temple with one thought in his mind, I imagine: the supreme gift of coming before the Lord, lighting that incense, and then emerging to offer the crowds a few words and a prayer as was the custom. Perhaps this was a healing moment as well because he entered the temple with a burden. Though he and his wife Elizabeth were blameless people, God had not blessed them with a child. This would have cast a shadow on his character and Elizabeth’s, for they believed God blessed the righteous and punished the wicked. In those days, being childless was considered a punishment. So, as he approached the altar, there might have been a cleansing feeling in his heart, for certainly, God would not have given him the privilege of lighting incense if he was truly sinful as perhaps the rumors suggested. Conceivably, he imagined that when he left the temple and offered the prayers, the people would view him differently.
But apparently, he had so utterly given up hope of having a child that, at the altar, he wouldn’t even believe an angel—the angel Gabriel at that. Gabriel was one of the archangels, only dispatched for especially momentous tasks. God entrusted those tasks to Gabriel.
Gabriel tells Zechariah first not to fear because, perhaps you recall, most of Gabriel’s tasks included smiting. Then he tells Zechariah his prayer has been heard and his wife will bear a son. Zechariah’s prayers at the altar (and this is critical to the story) would not have been for a child; these prayers were offered on behalf of all of Israel. They would have been prayers for redemption, for deliverance… they would have been prayers for the Messiah.
After he heard the description of his child, to be named John, Zechariah realized that Gabriel was promising everything he could possibly have hoped for: a child, personal redemption, liberation for his people, and the Messiah.
Unsurprisingly, Zechariah asks for a sign—a dicey, bold move. As a priest, he would’ve known the biblical history. On the one hand, centuries before, Isaiah told King Ahaz to ask for a sign “as high as the heavens or as low as Sheol.” Ahaz refused and incurred wrath for not asking for a sign.
On the other hand, when the people of Israel wandered through the wilderness, they were castigated for asking for a sign. Gabriel decided, perhaps through his own “angelic” impatience, to punish Zechariah. I fault Gabriel. Curiously, Zechariah’s punishment becomes a sign for everyone else.
For he is mute over the course of months, and it is not until his child is born and he agrees with Elizabeth that his name should be John that suddenly he’s able to speak.
This moment gives so much:
the restoration of his reputation,
the release of pain he and Elizabeth had experienced over the years,
the pinnacle of his personal calling as a priest,
and the realization of Israel’s hopes.
It was a catharsis, and it leads him to offer these incredible words known as the Benedictus.
He begins not from his own personal healing but with his people: “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably upon his people and redeemed them.”
Zechariah’s first thought was for the public good.
What does that mean for New York City—seeking the public good, or, using the language we have adopted this year at Brick, being a "Beacon of Hope"?
I saw it a few weeks ago. We had a concert in Watson Hall. It was a partnership between Daniel’s Music Foundation and Brick. For those of you who don’t know, the foundation’s mission is to change lives through music. I know it changed mine. Here is the website description of their work:
“We’re creating a community for individuals of all abilities to thrive, express themselves, and enjoy music together. By sharing their talents and their stories, we’re helping build a more enriching, inclusive world for all.”
Their work is based on the premise that music isn’t a privilege—it is a right. And I would add that it is a right given by God. If God implants music in the soul of a human being, it must be opened.
As you’re listening to the music from those who have various physical challenges, at first, you are in awe, even confounded by their fortitude to overcome. And that’s part of the power of the event—the human spirit rising high. But then there’s a moment in which their challenges fade into the background, and you are simply mesmerized by the beauty and power of the music.
This is the sound of soul. Hearing the music and seeing their expressions, suddenly we can see the core of a human being created by God.
This is the abundant life for which Jesus came into the world. And it represents our desire at Brick to become a Beacon of God’s power—to ensure that more and more people in this city, whoever they are, fully realize all that God intends for them.
It happens today in the same way it happened for Zechariah.
In that story, we see that as God brought a gift to the whole world, a fracture was healed in Zechariah and Elizabeth’s hearts.
That’s the essence of Daniel’s Music Foundation. An individual cultivates their gift, and then we are all blessed by enjoying their music. Zechariah and Elizabeth were hurting for so many years, but Israel was hurting even longer. Through a child named John, God’s plan for salvation came to pass.
There is another item on my bucket list: to help Brick Church realize its limitless potential—the potential to meet the spiritual needs of individuals coming through these doors, while at the same time being used to bring abundant life to so many more around this city and around the globe.
At the pinnacle of Zechariah’s career, while lighting the incense in the temple, the moment of hope was realized for his people. Many of us have a drive to excel, to hone our craft, to be recognized by our peers, and to have that moment of professional satisfaction that lasts a lifetime.
But Zechariah shows us that even that moment is not ultimately about us. It is about the privilege that God gives us. So, yes, we should bask in those bucket list moments, giving thanks to God, and then turn them so that they might bring abundant life to all those dear to our Lord.
And now, listen to Zechariah’s words of praise, as he turned his blessings into a blessing for us all.
Amen.
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