Do You Hear What I Hear?
December 06, 2009
Rev. Susan E. Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Zephaniah 3:14-20, Luke 1:5-25
So Zechariah is a priest, and he is on incense duty at the temple in Jerusalem. He is in the Holy of Holies, the inner sanctum, a priests-only place, and he is supposed to say a blessing when he emerges. Being on incense duty at the Jerusalem temple was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And apparently the last thing Zechariah expected during such an occasion was a religious experience. Who would expect to run into a messenger of God in church, after all??
And as is customary in such interactions, the angel first told him not to be afraid – another interesting thing: starting with today, over the next few weeks, we will hear about 3 encounters between angels and humans. Each time, the angel has to say, “Don’t be afraid.” Angels are messengers of God. You’d think that being scary gets in the way of the job.
Anyway, Zechariah hears from the angel that he and Elizabeth, his wife, are going to have a baby. And he doesn’t believe it – and apparently angels get testy about that sort of thing, because in return for asking questions, Zechariah is struck mute until the birth of the baby. And the baby will grow up to be John the Baptist.
Luke’s first two chapters are all about the conception and birth of John the Baptist and Jesus – Luke tells the story in alternate narratives: the angel comes to announce John’s coming to his father, then the angel comes to announce Jesus’ coming to his mother. The mothers get together to share their joy at their pregnancies, and then John is born, followed by Jesus. Then, beginning with chapter three, Luke tells about the ministry of John, describes the meeting of Jesus and John when Jesus is baptized, then begins the story of the ministry of Jesus.
The story is told so intricately and so beautifully, so it is surprising to me that the background story of the birth of John the Baptist is never included in the lectionary. Luke’s gospel will be very concerned with differences in wealth and power – a theme of this gospel is that humans turn away from God and concern themselves more with wealth and status, and that this misdirected attention leads to injustice within society, shown by social inequalities, exclusion of some people, lack of mercy and compassion, and overemphasis on wealth and power. Placing God first results in an appreciation of God’s mercy toward us and a desire to extend compassion to others, a society marked by inclusion, care for the poor and the ill, and evidence of God’s Spirit in its midst.
Oddly enough, the framers of the lectionary, in considering Luke’s Gospel chose to only include the birth narratives of the more important baby – underscoring our human tendency to be easily distracted by status and signs of power. And so rather than hearing about how the world is woven through and through with the care of God, as shown in the story of the births of these two men, John and Jesus, instead we hear just about Jesus, as if only his part of the story is important, as if God would only be concerned with that baby.
This is not a long story, but there is a fair amount of information bundled into it. We are told that both Zechariah and Elizabeth come from priestly families, and that they are righteous. Also, Gabriel mentions that Zechariah’s prayer has been answered. They have prayed for a child. These are ordinary good, faithful people – who have quietly asked God to grant them a child. But their surprise at this good news shows no sense of entitlement. They had accepted the way life has gone for them.
And the surprise of Zechariah at being interrupted at his religion by a word from God, though he is in the holy of holies, is a wonderful reminder of how we tend to prefer our religion manageable, and how little we expect God to break into our worship. Yet although Zechariah is startled, and somewhat skeptical of the announcement by the angel, he is able to hear the news, and over the months until the child is born he wraps his heart around the miracle…as does Elizabeth. They were open to hope – they were available to the good news from God. And once the good news does come, they accept it with little fanfare – the story tells us that Elizabeth stays in seclusion. There was no such custom around pregnancy in the Middle East at that time, but given that she had earlier experienced the social stigma around her inability to conceive, perhaps she wanted to avoid questions until the pregnancy was well-established.
Thus, Luke tells us their story in ways that tells us that they are ordinary people with ordinary concerns – but he also tells the story in such a way that he connects them with the history of Israel in important ways. Luke is generally understood to be a Gentile, writing to Gentiles, but he is clearly familiar with the history and traditions of Israel.
His narrative begins with this miraculous pregnancy of Elizabeth, just as two other important junctures in the history of God’s people had been marked by such pregnancies: the beginning of the patriarchs of Israel is marked by the miraculous gift of a pregnancy to Sarah, when she and Abraham are both elderly.
And the onset of the monarchy in Israel is marked by the miraculous birth of a baby to Hannah – she is granted a baby after she had been at prayer in the temple, and that baby is the prophet Samuel, through whom God inaugurates the monarchy in Israel, and who anoints the young King David.
So in this episode, the story that is about to be told – the story of the birth, life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus which leads into the birth of the early church – this story is rooted firmly in the tradition of God’s people. We are reminded that this is a tradition in which God works great things through ordinary people, and further reminded that this God is the one who brings new life when no life seems possible.
The ordinary and the extraordinary come together in the mission and miracles of this God, and since this story has its beginning with ordinary people such as Zechariah and Elizabeth, and earlier Abraham, Sarah, and Hannah, we are reminded that ordinary people such as ourselves are also invited into the story of God. And in this Advent season, we are reminded that the story of God has always been a story of hope – one in which God has again and again brought new life and new direction to people in whom hope was almost extinguished. In Advent, we take to acknowledge the darkness in our world, to be aware of the hopes of God, and to allow ourselves to rest in that hope – orienting ourselves to the possibilities – possibilities that include us.
Our other reading, in the New International Version translation, verses 15-17 read: “The Lord, the King of Israel, is with you; never again will you fear any harm. On that day they will say to Jerusalem, "Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands hang limp. The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.”
What if we could allow God to quiet us with his love? What if we could hear God singing to us?
A recent book, How God Changes Your Brain, written by Andrew Newberg and Mark Robert Waldman, discusses the impact of faith on our brains. Newberg is the director of the University of Pennsylvania’s Center for Spirituality and the Mind, where Waldman is a therapist. They have extensively studied meditation and its effects on the mind, but their work extends beyond meditation to the biological impact of faith and faith practices. Not only are we wired for faith, it turns out, but the practice of faith enhances the neural processes of the brain in ways that improve physical and emotional health.
And contemplative practices not only relax us, but create permanent changes in parts of the brain that impact our moods, our sense of self, and our sensory perception of the world. Contemplation also strengthens “…a specific neurological circuit that generates peacefulness, social awareness and compassion for others.” Newberg and Waldman are careful not to draw any conclusions about God, but to limit themselves to what the data in their study actually tells us about people – thus, they can’t tell us whether or not God is real, but they can tell us that the impact of faith is, indeed, not only spiritual but biologically real.
Given this evidence faith practices can, over time, impact our sensory perception of the world, it gives us reason to trust in the experiences of Zechariah. It reminds us that we ordinary people really are designed to participate in the life of God, and it gives us reason to hope that we too might be able to hear the song of God one day.
During this season of Advent, let us all take time to let God quiet us with his love, knowing that these quiet times are shaping us in ways that make us see and hear the world differently, sense ourselves differently, and generate more energy for peace and compassion in the world. Peace on earth, good will to all. Amen.
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Zephaniah 3:14-20, Luke 1:5-25
So Zechariah is a priest, and he is on incense duty at the temple in Jerusalem. He is in the Holy of Holies, the inner sanctum, a priests-only place, and he is supposed to say a blessing when he emerges. Being on incense duty at the Jerusalem temple was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And apparently the last thing Zechariah expected during such an occasion was a religious experience. Who would expect to run into a messenger of God in church, after all??
And as is customary in such interactions, the angel first told him not to be afraid – another interesting thing: starting with today, over the next few weeks, we will hear about 3 encounters between angels and humans. Each time, the angel has to say, “Don’t be afraid.” Angels are messengers of God. You’d think that being scary gets in the way of the job.
Anyway, Zechariah hears from the angel that he and Elizabeth, his wife, are going to have a baby. And he doesn’t believe it – and apparently angels get testy about that sort of thing, because in return for asking questions, Zechariah is struck mute until the birth of the baby. And the baby will grow up to be John the Baptist.
Luke’s first two chapters are all about the conception and birth of John the Baptist and Jesus – Luke tells the story in alternate narratives: the angel comes to announce John’s coming to his father, then the angel comes to announce Jesus’ coming to his mother. The mothers get together to share their joy at their pregnancies, and then John is born, followed by Jesus. Then, beginning with chapter three, Luke tells about the ministry of John, describes the meeting of Jesus and John when Jesus is baptized, then begins the story of the ministry of Jesus.
The story is told so intricately and so beautifully, so it is surprising to me that the background story of the birth of John the Baptist is never included in the lectionary. Luke’s gospel will be very concerned with differences in wealth and power – a theme of this gospel is that humans turn away from God and concern themselves more with wealth and status, and that this misdirected attention leads to injustice within society, shown by social inequalities, exclusion of some people, lack of mercy and compassion, and overemphasis on wealth and power. Placing God first results in an appreciation of God’s mercy toward us and a desire to extend compassion to others, a society marked by inclusion, care for the poor and the ill, and evidence of God’s Spirit in its midst.
Oddly enough, the framers of the lectionary, in considering Luke’s Gospel chose to only include the birth narratives of the more important baby – underscoring our human tendency to be easily distracted by status and signs of power. And so rather than hearing about how the world is woven through and through with the care of God, as shown in the story of the births of these two men, John and Jesus, instead we hear just about Jesus, as if only his part of the story is important, as if God would only be concerned with that baby.
This is not a long story, but there is a fair amount of information bundled into it. We are told that both Zechariah and Elizabeth come from priestly families, and that they are righteous. Also, Gabriel mentions that Zechariah’s prayer has been answered. They have prayed for a child. These are ordinary good, faithful people – who have quietly asked God to grant them a child. But their surprise at this good news shows no sense of entitlement. They had accepted the way life has gone for them.
And the surprise of Zechariah at being interrupted at his religion by a word from God, though he is in the holy of holies, is a wonderful reminder of how we tend to prefer our religion manageable, and how little we expect God to break into our worship. Yet although Zechariah is startled, and somewhat skeptical of the announcement by the angel, he is able to hear the news, and over the months until the child is born he wraps his heart around the miracle…as does Elizabeth. They were open to hope – they were available to the good news from God. And once the good news does come, they accept it with little fanfare – the story tells us that Elizabeth stays in seclusion. There was no such custom around pregnancy in the Middle East at that time, but given that she had earlier experienced the social stigma around her inability to conceive, perhaps she wanted to avoid questions until the pregnancy was well-established.
Thus, Luke tells us their story in ways that tells us that they are ordinary people with ordinary concerns – but he also tells the story in such a way that he connects them with the history of Israel in important ways. Luke is generally understood to be a Gentile, writing to Gentiles, but he is clearly familiar with the history and traditions of Israel.
His narrative begins with this miraculous pregnancy of Elizabeth, just as two other important junctures in the history of God’s people had been marked by such pregnancies: the beginning of the patriarchs of Israel is marked by the miraculous gift of a pregnancy to Sarah, when she and Abraham are both elderly.
And the onset of the monarchy in Israel is marked by the miraculous birth of a baby to Hannah – she is granted a baby after she had been at prayer in the temple, and that baby is the prophet Samuel, through whom God inaugurates the monarchy in Israel, and who anoints the young King David.
So in this episode, the story that is about to be told – the story of the birth, life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus which leads into the birth of the early church – this story is rooted firmly in the tradition of God’s people. We are reminded that this is a tradition in which God works great things through ordinary people, and further reminded that this God is the one who brings new life when no life seems possible.
The ordinary and the extraordinary come together in the mission and miracles of this God, and since this story has its beginning with ordinary people such as Zechariah and Elizabeth, and earlier Abraham, Sarah, and Hannah, we are reminded that ordinary people such as ourselves are also invited into the story of God. And in this Advent season, we are reminded that the story of God has always been a story of hope – one in which God has again and again brought new life and new direction to people in whom hope was almost extinguished. In Advent, we take to acknowledge the darkness in our world, to be aware of the hopes of God, and to allow ourselves to rest in that hope – orienting ourselves to the possibilities – possibilities that include us.
Our other reading, in the New International Version translation, verses 15-17 read: “The Lord, the King of Israel, is with you; never again will you fear any harm. On that day they will say to Jerusalem, "Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands hang limp. The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.”
What if we could allow God to quiet us with his love? What if we could hear God singing to us?
A recent book, How God Changes Your Brain, written by Andrew Newberg and Mark Robert Waldman, discusses the impact of faith on our brains. Newberg is the director of the University of Pennsylvania’s Center for Spirituality and the Mind, where Waldman is a therapist. They have extensively studied meditation and its effects on the mind, but their work extends beyond meditation to the biological impact of faith and faith practices. Not only are we wired for faith, it turns out, but the practice of faith enhances the neural processes of the brain in ways that improve physical and emotional health.
And contemplative practices not only relax us, but create permanent changes in parts of the brain that impact our moods, our sense of self, and our sensory perception of the world. Contemplation also strengthens “…a specific neurological circuit that generates peacefulness, social awareness and compassion for others.” Newberg and Waldman are careful not to draw any conclusions about God, but to limit themselves to what the data in their study actually tells us about people – thus, they can’t tell us whether or not God is real, but they can tell us that the impact of faith is, indeed, not only spiritual but biologically real.
Given this evidence faith practices can, over time, impact our sensory perception of the world, it gives us reason to trust in the experiences of Zechariah. It reminds us that we ordinary people really are designed to participate in the life of God, and it gives us reason to hope that we too might be able to hear the song of God one day.
During this season of Advent, let us all take time to let God quiet us with his love, knowing that these quiet times are shaping us in ways that make us see and hear the world differently, sense ourselves differently, and generate more energy for peace and compassion in the world. Peace on earth, good will to all. Amen.