SHUT UP!

Luke 1: 5-25, 57-80
Steve Lindsley
December 4, 2011

I feel the need to begin the sermon this morning with a disclaimer of sorts: in no way, shape or form am I condoning, with today’s sermon title, the use of the phrase “shut up.”  I just want to go on record with that, okay?  Cause that’s not the way my Momma raised me.   Like many of you, I was brought up to believe that linking those two words together in that particular order was not the best of manners – or, as my grandmother might’ve called it – “uncouth.”  A simple “Be quiet” or the more general “Stop that” is the preferred verbiage. 

But as I was reading our scripture today and working this past week on the sermon, I couldn’t help myself!  It’s a marvelous little birth story that gets told in the opening chapters of Luke – not to be confused with that other birth story, by the way.  You know, it’s interesting how the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth so easily gets lost in the shuffle, don’t you think?  This time of year our attention is squarely focused on that other couple getting ready for an unexpected birth.  It’s a manger scene that rests on our fireplace mantles, not the Jerusalem temple where Zechariah served as priest.  It’s two teenaged kids getting ready to have a baby that’s front and center in our minds – not an elderly couple well beyond child-bearing years.

I mean, let’s just say it up-front, shall we?  Elizabeth had no business getting pregnant at her age.  None at all.  It didn’t matter that she and Zechariah had been praying for years – decades, even – for a child.  Just one child.  And for whatever reason, that child never came.  That was a bitter pill for the two to swallow, because the ancient world typically associated barrenness with being cursed by God.  And Zechariah and Elizabeth were too nice a couple for something like that – Zechariah, a faithful priest serving God and the people at the temple; Elizabeth, a loyal and supportive wife. You don’t punish people like that.

No, the truth of the matter is that Zechariah and Elizabeth were unwitting members of a small but well-known group in the Bible; joined with the likes of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel.  All of their waiting and fervent prayers for a child, long unanswered.  And you have to figure at some point their prayers because almost rote in nature, became the longer you pray for something you desperately want, the more painful that prayer becomes.

Which leads us to the story in our scripture today.  Zechariah had been selected for the honor of burning incense to God in the heart of the temple.  This is something the priest would typically do as a crowd of people waited outside, praying, anxious to hear any vision or word from the Lord relayed to the priest.  The people, waiting expectantly to hear a word from the Lord.  Zechariah, he and his wife waiting expectantly for the child they had prayed for all these years.  Expectant waiting and praying….

Does this not sound like Advent to you?

It was not common for angels to appear before priests as they burned incense at the altar.  It was common, when angels did appear, for the person they appeared to to be scared to death, because angels didn’t typically do that sort of thing.  And so it was common for the angel to then tell the visited that they shouldn’t be afraid, they shouldn’t worry, because there was some great news to share, which is why they were there in the first place.  And that great news for Zechariah was this: he and his wife were going to have their long-awaited, long-prayed-for child.  And not only that: this kid would be special.  Real special. 

I mean, imagine it’s your first visit to the OBGYN, first ultrasound, and after they smear that cold goo on your belly and check out the computer screen, the RN has this to say in their report.

It’s a boy!  But this is a very special boy.  He’ll be filled with the Holy Spirit from the moment he leaves your womb.  He’ll turn many sons and daughters of Israel back to their God.  He’ll herald God’s arrival in the style and strength of Elijah, soften the hearts of parents to children, and kindle devout understanding among hardened skeptics – he’ll get the people ready for God!
(based on Luke 1: 15b-17, The Message)

Now that’s a lot to put on a kid who hadn’t even been born yet, isn’t it?  Much less on an old priest who had long assumed his and his wife’s prayers had been forgotten.  And maybe that’s the reason we don’t see Zechariah jumping up and down or blurting out “Yippee!” or running to tell his neighbors and friends the news.  You can almost see him standing there, incense candle in hand, stunned still.  And all he can muster to say is a muted and incredulous, “Do you expect me to believe this??” 

So here’s where the sermon title today comes from.  Because when I think of Zechariah here, I can’t help but recall an old high school friend way back in the day; a guy I ran cross country with and sat next to in sophomore English.  He was a fun-loving guy; kind of reminded me of a surfer with the way he talked and his mannerisms.  He said “Dude” a lot.  But the thing I remember him for the most is what he’d say if you had some incredible news to share; something surprising and shocking.  Without fail, he’d always say, “Shut up!”  And he wasn’t telling you not to talk anymore; it was more like “No way!” or “You gotta be kidding me!”

I think that’s the way Zechariah felt after the angel told him what he did – don’t you?  Because it’s one thing to learn that the very thing you’ve dreamed of and prayed for all your life is going to happen.  It’s one thing to have to wrap your mind around that.  But it’s another thing entirely when you hear this son of yours will be the very one to prepare the world for the even-longer awaited Messiah.  Shut up! 

And just like those two words were not my mother’s favorite, apparently the angel wasn’t crazy about the sentiment of it, either.  Next thing we know, the angel makes Zechariah mute, unable to talk.  Shuts him up!  Unable to tell his wife about the unbelievable news that’s just been shared with him.  Unable to say anything to the throng of people gathered outside the temple, who’d been waiting all day for him to come out and relay a word from the Lord.  Talk about awkward!

Let me ask you something, because I think it’s the question this “other” birth story is pushing us to: why do you think the angel “shut Zechariah up?”  Was it punishment for not believing enough or being faithful enough – much in the same way we typically interpret why Moses wasn’t allowed to enter the Promised Land, or Peter started sinking in the waves?  Did Gabriel render Zechariah speechless simply because he didn’t believe the angel’s good news?

You know, I’m not buying that.  I’m not buying this as some kind of punishment for a “lack of faith.”  I don’t think that God works that way.  Because honestly, if that were the case, none of us would be doing a lot of talking.  Your minister would be standing up here, speechless!  We all have our moments of doubts, don’t we?  Time and time again, you and I come face to face with the miracle of God’s presence in our lives – in some form or fashion – and we don’t always believe it, either.  We don’t always see it for what it is.

No, I’m actually wondering if what’s going on here is much simpler than that – that perhaps the angel, and even God, wanted the old priest to have some “quiet time” – not as punishment, but as a gift.  An opportunity.  No words to clog up thoughts.  Just time to be still, be quiet and reflect on how their lives would change, how the world would change, when baby John arrived.  And not just time for Zechariah to reflect.  Time for all those outside the temple that day, the crowd gathered there, to do the same.  A crowd that includes people like you and like me.

Which brings us back to that whole waiting thing.  Because that’s what they had to do, and that’s what we have to do as well.  Waiting is inevitable, isn’t it?  I remember last week, Shasta telling us in her children’s sermon that the typical 70-year old person has spent an average of three whole years waiting.  That’s a lot of waiting, folks! 

And the thing is, some good can come out of waiting, if we let it, because we begin to see things we haven’t seen before.  A Sunday school teacher was helping her third-grade class build a manger scene in a corner of their classroom.  They set up everything – the barn structure, all the animals, an assortment of shepherds, the three wise men, and some fake hay to top it off.  Finally, Mary and Joseph were added, and then of course, the manger with baby Jesus.

The children loved their little manger scene – except for one boy, who had a quizzical look on his face as he stared down at their creation.  The teacher asked him what was wrong.  “Nothing’s wrong,” the boy replied.  “I was just wondering – where does God fit in there?”

You ever felt like that this time of year?  You ever wonder where God fits in?  Sometimes you and I make a mess of God’s goodness when we try to explain it, rationalize it, encapsulate it into something that can be easily consumed, like some sort of holiday treat.  But that’s not the way the Good News comes to us.  It comes unexpectedly, delivered by an angel who dares to tell us that our wildest dream is about to come true.

And that right there, my friends, is the essence of the journey of Advent – a journey of waiting clutter-free for the miracle to come.  Or, better yet, the miracles.  I mean, look at all the wonderful things that God packs into this “other” birth narrative.  There’s the miracle of the promise, and the miracle of waiting and praying for God to fulfill that promise.  There’s the miracle of meditation in silence, and then the miracle of being able to speak the Good News aloud.  And finally, of course, there’s the miracle of a long-awaited, promised, joyous birth.

That doesn’t mean, by the way, that miracles are easy.  It’s hard to wait!  It’s hard to be silenced when all you feel like doing is filling the world with words.  But that’s the journey that Zechariah and Elizabeth had to go on in the first chapter of Luke.  And when it comes to Advent, it’s a journey we have to go on as well.

It’s like the poem I came across this past week in my devotional time:

Let us begin Advent, waiting.
  Not the “going back to sleep” kind of waiting.
  Not the impatient pacing, or the wasted anxiety of waiting.
  Not even the passive-aggressive waiting that says, “Really? We’ll see.”

Let us begin Advent, waiting.
  Getting up and joining the adventure,
  Even when we don’t know where it will take us.
  Shifting the impatient waiting to expectant living.
  Boldly claiming the Good News that we know will come.
  Waiting with joy as we reach out with the grace of God
  That is so much more than amazing.

Let us begin Advent – shut up at first, then shouting the Good News out loud!  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.