This year, in Advent and Christmas, we are doing things a little bit differently - instead of a more traditional "sermon," each week our reflection is going to take the form of story-telling, told from the perspective of someone who was waiting for Jesus.
Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday December 12, 2021 – 4th Sunday of Advent
Scripture Reading: Luke 1:5-25, 39-45
For so many years, it felt like I was living my life in a deep cave.
It wasn’t always that way. My parents named me Elizabeth which means “God is my oath.” They knew that I belonged to God-whose-name-is-Holy, and they taught me right from when I was little that God-whose-name-is-Holy loved me.
I remember when I was a young girl – that seems like a lifetime ago – I used to dance and sing rather than walking and talking. My feet always felt like they were flying, as they tried to keep up with my heart.
Because my parents knew that I belonged to God-whose-name-is-Holy, when it was time for me to be married, they arranged a marriage with Zechariah, one of the priests who served at the temple. I still remember that first day when we met… marriages are a solemn affair, and so I was keeping my eyes turned down as is proper, but at one point I dared to look up and our eyes met from across the room. Even though his face stayed still, there was a sparkle in his eye that told me that his heart was the sort of heart that could dance and sing too.
It was a good marriage. We respected each other and we enjoyed being in each other’s company. But with each month, with each year that passed and we weren’t blessed with children, it became harder and harder. My feet didn’t dance any more. My voice didn’t sing any more. And worst of all, my heart stopped dancing and singing too.
We sought out healers – the sort of healers that women in every village know how to find. They all suggested different things we could try – different teas we could brew and drink, different amulets we could place under our bed. But none of them worked. And with each failed attempt, it felt like I was being dragged further and further into that dark cave. It felt like I was being buried even though I was still alive.
The years passed, until I was long past the age when I could expect to begin a family. I was existing, but I wasn’t really living.
But then the day came… it was one of our high holy days, and Zechariah was away serving in the temple in Jerusalem. He told me about what happened later – I wasn’t there to witness it, and as you’ll hear, he wasn’t able to tell me about it right away.
Zechariah was serving in the temple, and when he entered the Holy of Holies, the angel Gabriel was there. The angel told Zechariah that our prayers had finally been answered, and that we were going to have our child at last. It was going to be a son, and we were to name him John, and he was going to have the power of Elijah, the power of the prophets in our history, and he was going to prepare the way of the Lord.
Zechariah is a practical man, and he knows how old I am, and so he didn’t believe what the angel told him, and because of his disbelief, the angel took away his voice. For ten months, he wasn’t able to say a single word.
When he came home, he tried to explain to me, without words, what had happened, but I didn’t believe the angel either. And when my body first started showing signs of the baby I was carrying, I didn’t believe my body either. You know how it is with women when we reach a certain age… we can’t trust anything that our bodies tell us. My monthly bleeding had long ago become unpredictable, and my size and shape was shifting as I moved into old age. I was more likely to be dying at my age, than to be carrying a child.
And I was prepared to die. I had spent so many years living with a heavy heart in the darkness, that death felt like it would be a release.
But then the day came when my young kinswoman Mary came to visit me. Here we were, two women, one too old and too barren to be carrying a child, and the other too young and too unmarried to be carrying a child. And yet here we were.
And as she entered my room, I felt the baby I carried within me give a kick. I felt the baby give a leap of joy. And finally, it felt like there might actually be a new life growing inside of me.
And with that kick, my song returned to me. I sang out to Mary, “blessed are you among women, an blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”
And as I sang, and as Mary joined in with my song, it felt as though I was leaving my cave at last and stepping out into the bright sunlight. It felt as though my heart and my voice and my feet could sing and dance again.
And when the time came, our baby was born, and we named him John, and he did indeed live a life that was focused on pointing people towards God-whose-name-is-Holy, and for preparing the way of his younger cousin, Mary’s boy.
And for as long as we will live, Zechariah and I will continue to sing of the dawn that breaks upon us, and gives light to everyone who sits in sorrow and shadows.
“Visitation”
From the Church of St. Elizageth / San Isabel (El Sitio, El Salvador)
Photograph by John Donaghy
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