A sermon preached by the Rev’d Dr Daniel Dries Advent 2 Christ Church St Laurence – 6 December 2015
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight: O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. Amen. From the first chapter of the Gospel according to Luke: ‘…the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer is heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John”.’ My father’s name is Michael; his father’s name was also Michael. It is a tradition spanning several generations. I was not given the Christian name Michael for a number of complex reasons, but this break with tradition was not taken lightly. Michael is my middle name reflecting some sort of compromise. The naming of a child can be a source of great anguish for new parents. The Sydney Morning Herald recently published an article emphasising the need to get it right. The article suggested that a child will suffer greatly as a result of a very unusual name, as well as from those wonderfully quirky spellings—citing examples like Catherine with an X and Tiffany with a triple I. A little while ago, the Italian court of appeal instructed a couple to rename their child. Presumably because of the day of the week on which it was born, the Italian parents named their son ‘Friday’. Believing that the child would be ridiculed, the judges ordered them to rename their baby Gregorio, reflecting the saint’s day that fell on the child’s birthday. But what of Zechariah? Was it so unreasonable for him to name his son in accordance with family tradition? This is what everyone would have expected. There would have been nothing quirky or provocative about continuing this family tradition. “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer is heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John”.’ Like many of you, I have heard the story of Zechariah again and again since I was a child. After his encounter with the angel Zechariah becomes mute. At the birth of his son he writes on a tablet ‘His name is John’, and his speech is suddenly restored. Although I’ve heard this story many times, I confess that I have never really stopped to consider why the name John was so important in this rather dramatic turn of events. The annunciation to Zechariah is a very typical dream-like vision that we see throughout Scripture—particularly in the Old Testament. A mystical scene is set; there is a vision with a commission and an invitation; there is a reaction and a response. Eventually, there will be a 1|Page
fulfilment of the prophecy. But why was Zechariah chosen to be the recipient of this vision, and the great blessing that would follow? Zechariah was a priest of the tribe of Abijah. His wife, Elizabeth, was a descendent of the priestly tribe of Aaron. This pair had some serious religious credibility; they possessed a lineage at least as impressive as that of Mary and Joseph. Luke tells us that they were a righteous couple, and that they did all that was expected under the Law. However, these models of Jewish piety had been denied the greatest blessing that a faithful couple could receive—that is, the birth of a son. Luke uses that most brutal sounding term: Elizabeth was barren; and worse still, they were now both old—a rather harsh sentence for a faithful priest and his equally faithful wife. Most of you would realise that there are at least 25 liturgies or services in this church building every week. This would not be possible without a small team of clergy, as well as an immeasurable contribution by the laity. We know that the Jerusalem Temple also involved a great number of rituals and liturgies. However, sources suggest that the religious rites of the Temple were shared by 18,000 priests. If we had even one tenth of that number on staff here I suspect that my hair would not be turning grey. Perhaps 18,000 was an exaggeration. However, it does confirm that Zechariah’s experience was far from commonplace. Being selected to offer the incense in the Temple was a privilege that may have been a once in a lifetime opportunity. In Luke Chapter 1, it is Zechariah’s turn to make the incense offering. As working days go, this one is destined to be fairly momentous. I am aware that incense is not to everyone’s liking. I have heard that one of my esteemed processors would deal with complaints by pointing out that Scripture only speaks of two smells in the after-life—incense and sulphur. If we go through this life with some degree of optimism, we might just as well learn to love this sweet smelling fragrance. Regardless of our views on the merits of incense it symbolises prayer, as it did in the first century Jerusalem Temple. As Zechariah has the privilege of offering the incense on behalf of the people, they remain praying outside. The Angel appears to Zechariah on the right side of the altar—the favoured side. This scene is all about prayers being offered and answered. All of this should be welcomed by a faithful priest, and yet Zechariah’s response is one of acute emotional distress. This divine messenger assures Zechariah that his prayers have been answered. There is only one catch, this promised child will not be named Zechariah, as everyone would expect. But why was this so important? Zechariah means ‘Yahweh has remembered’, while John means ‘Yahweh is gracious’. The name ‘Zechariah’ speaks of the past actions of Yahweh, while the name ‘John’ affirms that God is present and active in the world right now. This break with tradition confirms that something radical is happening. This break with tradition affirms that God actions are not confined to the past.
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It’s a powerful and confronting message in the context of Advent, but it is even more confronting for those of those who delight in ancient liturgical traditions. As we offer our incense as a symbol of prayer, we acknowledge the timelessness of our God, but we are also reminded that this eternal God is living and active in our world today; still calling us to action; still demanding a response from each of us. Experiencing God only in the past tense will leave us mute. What a tragedy it is to remain speechless in a world that desperately needs to hear a message of hope and love. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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