If you know one thing about Advent, you know it is a season of waiting. And waiting can be so hard. Last week we lit the Advent wreath in our home for the first time this year. Lena looked at all the candles and asked, “How many?” I said, “Just one.” And later she asked, “And tomorrow we get to light two?” and I said, “No. We wait a week before we light two candles.” And Lena made a little squeaky sound of angst. Because this is just one more thing she is required to wait for this season, and a week may as well be 10 years in her mind.
On this second Sunday of Advent, we still wait. And on this day of our journey toward Bethlehem we are in Jerusalem. It is one of the oldest cities in the world, with a population 60 percent Jewish and 40 percent Palestinian, home to the three largest monotheistic faiths – Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Think about that for a moment.
No one knows how old Jerusalem is, but there are references to it as far back as the time of Abraham and Sarah. In Genesis, Abraham has an encounter with Melchizedek, the priest of Salem – Salem was an early settlement of Jerusalem. Salem and Shalom share the same root word. Hence, Jerusalem is sometimes called the City of Peace.
It wasn’t until the time of David that the Jews controlled the city of Jerusalem. And it was David’s son, Solomon who built the first temple there. For many centuries, the temple was central to Israel’s relationship with God. It was a religion built on a system of sacrifices, which was common among the religions of the ancient world, and all sacrifices took place in the temple.
The temple was built as a series of layers, from the outermost, secular layer to the innermost, holy of holies where the ark of the covenant was kept. Just outside the holy of holies was another space called the holy place, which contained three things. There was the bread of presence, which was much like our communion bread, symbolizing God’s provision and desire to be present with God’s people. Opposite the bread was a menorah, with seven candles that were always burning, as a reminder that God was always with them. And in between was the altar of incense. A priest was required to enter the holy place daily to take care of these things.
The priests of Israel were the descendants of Aaron, the brother of Moses, and they were the only ones permitted to enter the holy place. Every able-bodied male descendant of Aaron was a member of the priestly order. It is estimated that there were twenty thousand priests in Israel in days of Zechariah, who rotated responsibility for these duties at the temple.
With so many priests, we can assume that this was a once in a lifetime experience for Zechariah. Most likely, he had never entered the holy place, and most likely he would never again.
The duties were simple and well-understood. They did not vary from week to week and so, even though Zechariah had never had this duty before he certainly understood what he needed to do and was quite capable of doing it. He would have entered the holy place at the designated time, bringing in the fresh loaves of bread. He would refill the candles in the menorah, and he would burn incense at the altar, while offering up the prayers of the people. While he was inside praying over the incense, the whole assembly of the people were outside praying along with him.
But something very unusual happened when Zechariah entered the holy place that day. The angel of the Lord showed up. And it knocked the poor man over in fear.
From one perspective, this event should not have been shocking. If we understand that this is God’s dwelling place, shouldn’t we expect God to, at least some of the time, be home when we come visit? Mightn’t we expect the Lord to show up in some way? Perhaps, but Zechariah was not expecting this. And I dare say none of us would expect it either.
I’m guessing you did not come in here today expecting God to show up. To change the world. To come bearing gifts of unlikely things – even impossible things. Yet, it is what we are asked to hope for…wait for.
Among the many things all of Israel hoped for, Zechariah and Elizabeth held a special hope of their own – for a child. But they grew old while they were waiting, and gradually they stopped hoping.
Just as Abraham and Sarah had hoped for, waited for a child hundreds of years before. But they grew old while they were waiting, and gradually stopped hoping.
Jerusalem, the City of Peace, has waited for peace to come – hoping…praying…waiting. But perhaps they, too, have gradually stopped hoping.
Have you ever stopped waiting for something that you longed for? Stopped expecting something good?
As Zechariah knelt before the altar of incense, the angel Gabriel appeared to him, to tell him that God had not forgotten or forsaken him. God had heard the prayers of Zechariah and Elizabeth – even if they had long abandoned those prayers. God would give them a child.
At this point Zechariah was not inclined to believe it. It had been too long. He and Elizabeth had closed that chapter. They knew enough about life to know this: It was not humanly possible for these two old folks to have a baby.
But, in the place where it is not humanly possible – that is precisely where God steps in. One of the hardest things about faith is waiting for that time when God will step in.
Last Sunday we were in Rome, which was, for Israel and for us, a place where we could see the vast gulf between what exists in the world and what we are longing for – real peace, real justice, real freedom. Rome helps us to see, by its absence, what we are longing for.
But these things we long for turn out to be beyond our human capacity to achieve, a hard truth for us to accept. No matter how hard we try, we cannot give ourselves these gifts. What we long for, what we hope for, these are the things we must wait for.
Jerusalem is the place to go to wait – Never knowing how long we will be waiting – Never being quite sure what one does while waiting.
Something I have observed is that good church people have a hard time just waiting. If we have grown up in church, then we have been taught our whole life long what good church people do. We want more than anything to be doers of the word, not just hearers. And we are not wrong. We know with all that is in us that it is God’s desire for us to work for greater love in this world – for peace, for justice, for freedom for all God’s children.
We are made in God’s image, made to be partners in God’s dance of creation. This means we cannot do the work on our own, as we want, how we want, when we want. This partnership means we wait on the Lord. And as hard as that can be, we must never stop waiting on the Lord. We mustn’t grow weary and settle for something less, to look at the work of our own hands and say, “Well, that’ll have to do.” and forget what it was we were waiting for, hoping for, as Zechariah might have done.
Zechariah was literally struck mute by Gabriel, I guess for the insult of doubting the angel’s words. Maybe Zechariah was a guy who loved the sound of his voice, loved explaining stuff to everyone all day long, and Gabriel thought he’d heard enough from Zechariah. Maybe it was Gabriel’s gift to Elizabeth; maybe Elizabeth was grateful to have nine months of tranquility. I don’t know if any of this is true, but here is what I think: A time of forced silence for Zechariah was a good time for him to wait. To reflect on the words of the angel. To listen. To remember all that he had hoped for.
When Zechariah got his voice back – on the day of his son John’s circumcision – he opened his mouth and sang. The song of Zechariah is in the first chapter of Luke’s gospel, and it is a part of my morning prayers every day:
Blessed are you, Lord, the God of Israel;
You have come to your people and set them free.
You have raised up for us a mighty Savior,
born of the house of your servant David.
Through your holy prophets, you promised of old to save us from our enemies,
from the hands of all who hate us,
To show mercy to our forebears, and to remember your holy covenant.
This was the oath you swore to our father Abraham:
to set us free from the hands of our enemies,
Free to worship you without fear,
holy and righteous before you, all the days of our life.
And you, child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High,
for you will go before the Lord to prepare the way,
To give God’s people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins.
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.
We are not different from Zechariah. Most of us could use a time of silence to listen, to wait. To remember what it is we hope for.
In this season we wait. We wait for God to do unlikely things – even impossible things. And so, people of faith, let us continue showing up, offering our prayers, listening, hoping, waiting.
Let us never forget what we are waiting for.
NOTE: I am indebted to Rob Fuquay, whose book, On the Way to Bethlehem, has guided my thinking through this journey.
Picture: stock.adobe.com
