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December 10, 2006
Sermon, St. Edmund’s, San Marino
The Rev. Rob Fisher

Second Sunday of Advent ­ Texts: Malachi 5:1-9; Canticle 16; Philippians 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6

In the name of the true and living God, Amen.

I recently heard about a survey that determined what percentage of people in this country believe in the virgin birth.

The people conducting the survey were shocked because according to their results, there was a higher percentage of the population who claimed to believe in the virgin birth than there were who identified themselves as Christians.

They must have made some sort of mistake.  Surely, there was some flaw in the survey.  They did some work and investigated the situation, but to their surprise found that the results were in fact correct.

What could explain such a finding?  It turned out that many non-Christians said that they believe in the virgin birth.  Of course they did, because without it you can’t have Christmas.

***

The story of Christmas has become one of the few stories that is pervasively shared across our culture, and beloved, even beyond Christians themselves.

We have very few such shared stories holding our culture together any more.

Before electronic entertainment, which is admittedly before my time, I believe that people spent more time listening to and sharing stories.  People came to know the stories that were handed down from generation to generation, as opposed to simply switching on the T.V.

Being without cable at home nowadays, I sometimes feel out of the loop.  I have learned from the check out line that Nick and Jessica have broken up, but I am not sure exactly who Nick and Jessica are, or why we care about them. 

We used to have King Arthur and Odysseus, and now we have Survivor.

But there are a few stories that remain, that we tell over and over again, and that bring us warmth as well as giving us something that we share across our culture, that hold people together.  The story of Christmas is one of these.  Even Christians of various dispositions, who have trouble getting along these days, can embrace the story of Christmas together.

The leading actors of the Christmas story are Mary, Joseph and Jesus, and the supporting actors are the Angel Gabriel, the shepherds, the wise men, King Herod, and, in Christmas pageants at least, a host of sheep and other livestock. 

Those names evoke strong images for most of us.  Most of us can remember when we, or our children, dressed up and acted this story out on a Sunday in December.

A person, who is very close to me, told me that once she played the part of Baby Jesus in her church’s Christmas pageant.  Apparently, the young girl who was playing the part of Mary was not good at holding babies, and she dropped her a couple of times during the pageant.  Her father was understandably upset, and he said, memorably, “If they drop that baby one more time, this play is over!”

Now, if I were to say another name from the Christmas story, the name Zechariah, what images does that conjure up?  Do you have any images that come to mind at all?

Zechariah’s words were read by us all, just this morning.  And Zechariah is the first person that the Gospel of Luke actually tells about, before even Mary and Joseph enter into the picture. 

Poor Zechariah seems to have been streamlined out of the commonly shared Christmas story.  Still, he is a figure with very much to offer.

***

Each of the four Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke and John—tell the story of the life and ministry of Christ in a different way.  They each include different details and theological emphases.  The Gospels of Mark and John, for instance, completely skips the whole nativity story, and go right into the time when Jesus was beginning his ministry as an adult.

Luke takes the most time to tell of the origins of Christ.  And it is only the Gospel of Luke that tells of the nativity of John the Baptist.

John the Baptist’s mother and father both descended from priestly ancestry.  And they were part of the extended family of Mary and Joseph.  John’s father was a faithful and wise priest named Zechariah, and his mother was a woman named Elizabeth.  They were far along in age, beyond child bearing years, and yet they had no children.

Zechariah was one day given the priestly duty to light the incense in the Temple.  He was chosen by lot.  This was a rare privilege among priests, and it is possible that he would only get to do this once in his life. 

He went into the temple to light the incense and pray for God’s presence, and at that moment the Angel Gabriel came to him and told him that he and his wife would bear a son who was to be called John. 

Zechariah expressed wonder and disbelief because of his wife’s advanced age, and so the angel told him he would become mute until the child was born.  This is what happened.  When he came out of the temple, he could not speak, and the people knew that he had had a heavenly encounter.

Many months passed, and the couple lived in seclusion until their son was born.  On the eighth day, the child was circumcised.  The people around wanted to name the child Zechariah, after his father, but Elizabeth said, “No, the child’s name is John!”  The people turned to Zechariah to see what he wanted his son’s name to be, and he wrote out, “His name is John,” and at that moment Zechariah’s ability to speak returned to him.

And this is the moment when he spontaneously speaks in poetry.  These verses spoken by Zechariah comprise the Canticle that we read this morning.

Zechariah stands in the tradition of the people of Israel who have awaited a Messiah.  He proclaims God’s goodness, and God’s promise.

Fittingly, the Old Testament reading this morning is from the book of Malachi, which is the last book of the prophets from the Hebrew Bible.  It is a book that is calling for God’s coming to bring fulfillment to a broken age and a tarnished people.

We hear these words:

For [the Lord] is like a refiner’s fire and like a fuller’s soap;
He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver,
And he will purify the descendants of Levi
And refine them like gold and silver.

The good news of Malachi is that we are worthy of refining.  And we are refine-able. 

We may not feel very much like saints. 

We know that we are tarnished materials. 

But here is a message of hope for us.  We may be tarnished, but we are truly precious metals beneath, and God is not going to forsake us.  God wants to see us return to what God knows we have in our hearts.

Zechariah’s son John will testify to the coming of Jesus. 

And Jesus is the bridge to that preciousness within us. 

Jesus, God’s son, comes to reveal to us all that we are one family, with him and with God.

And I believe that for us to fully grasp this truth is what it means to go from darkness to light.  Zechariah’s words speak to us today as strongly as at any time.  They are worthy of savoring this Advent season:

In the tender compassion of our God

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. 

Amen.

 

© St. Edmund's Church