“Season’s greetings – Peace”

Psalm 72:1-7; Luke 1:68-79

5 December 2004

(Zechariah)

A couple of weeks ago we hosted the prayer service for the opening of the new parliament here in our church. This is the first time in the 8 years I’ve been in Canberra that this privilege has fallen to the Baptists, and the first time that I have had the responsibility as coordinator of ecumenical services in the ACT to oversee such an occasion. I’m pleased to say that it went quite well – our choir sang beautifully, no-one tripped over, there were no bombs despite the fact that the 18 or so members of the bomb squad that checked through the building earlier that morning left every external door open so I had to go around after them securing the place again!

Despite the very apt message that Bishop Trevor Edwards delivered about servant leadership I was struck by the level of protocol insisted upon and followed, so that the most important people present were treated in a worthy manner. Staff of both the Governor General and the Prime Minister visited the church the day before to check the security and seating arrangements. No functionary could sit in the same row as those whom they served; leaving a perplexing problem of how to fill the pews comfortably without causing offence to anyone. The order of readers proved to be an issue: the more important people had to read before the less important, despite the standard practice in all the churches to build to a climax with bible readings and give the gospel the last and therefore most important position in the liturgy. We had the governor general present and therefore were expected to pray for the Queen. Where people in powerful positions are concerned, we have to get it right.

In the church we celebrate Jesus as King of the universe, given dominion and power over all creation. As we read the hymn of Zechariah, often called the Benedictus and referred to as a prophecy, we see that the two great Old Testament traditions of kingship and prophecy come together. The first half of Zechariah’s hymn speaks of a new king in the mould of David, a king who will bring salvation and an end to warfare. God is praised because he looked favourably on his people, he visited them – the literal meaning of the Greek word is that God has fixed his gaze on them, making the divine presence felt in a special way. At the end of the ecumenical service for the opening of Parliament the Governor General moved towards the front of the church, causing a slight panic in his aide-de-camp who thought he was trying to leave the building through the wrong door. But he was merely moving over to thank the choir for their beautiful singing – a small gesture that meant a great deal. Being visited in a special way by someone great is something not easily forgotten. And this was Zechariah’s message for Israel – God’s gracious visitation was imminent.

While the hymn was a birth hymn prophesying the significance of an unborn child, rather than a praise hymn celebrating what God had already done, there is a multitude of Old Testament images that are used and repeated in careful chiastic order: words like visit, salvation, prophet, hand, our fathers, mercy. In the middle of the first section is a reference to God remembering the covenant and the oath he swore in days gone by. The links between words and concepts in this song are quite remarkable. The song begins with the words “blessed be the Lord God of Israel” – words that David is recorded to have said in the first chapter of I Kings when he announced that his son Solomon would rule after him, thereby establishing a Davidic line of succession. At the beginning of Luke we are told that the events took place at the time of King Herod. Herod was an oppressive, despotic king, hated by the Jews but set to reign over them. According to Josephus he wanted to be considered a Davidic king, possibly even something like a messiah. But Luke tells us that God intervened in this time of human history by raising up a true king from the line of David who would really save his people. Zechariah, the author of this song, was a priest whose name meant “The Lord has remembered”. The name of his wife, Elizabeth, meant “God’s oath”. This elderly couple, faithful Jewish believers from priestly families, embodied in their very names the message of God’s action in the world, and the central thought in the first part of this hymn. God remembered and kept the oath made to their ancestors. A king would come.

But what sort of king would this be?

The narrative leading up to this song is a fascinating story preparing the way for the arrival of Jesus. Zechariah’s wife Elizabeth was a cousin of Mary, and as I mentioned last week a childless woman in the tradition of the Old Testament matriarchs, especially Sarah the wife of Abraham. Luke tells us that Elizabeth and Zechariah were righteous before God, living blameless lives according to the commandments of the Lord. But Luke sets up the need for a special action on God’s part by mentioning rather delicately “both were getting on in years” (Luke 1:7) Like their ancient predecessors, the couple received a divine word announcing that they would nonetheless become parents of a special child, and child who had a particular part to play in the history of God’s working with his people. Perhaps not surprisingly Zechariah was a little sceptical at this announcement, and we are told as a result he lost the power of speech. Elizabeth, Luke tells us, hid herself away once the pregnancy began to show. So this elderly couple, one unable to speak and the other unable to socialise, must have been the cause of some speculation amongst their friends and neighbours. The community was kinder to them than we might expect though, as we are told they rejoiced with them when it came time for the child to be born. Against all tradition and protocol, though, the name of the newborn and long awaited son was not to be Zechariah but John – at the insistence of Elizabeth and backed up by her husband. When the name was confirmed, Zechariah gained the ability to speak again. The strange circumstances and the seeming miracle caused those around the baby to become a little fearful. This is what the story says: “all these things were talked about throughout the entire hill country of Judea. All who heard them pondered them and said, ‘What then will this child become?’”

Surely the history of John’s announcement, birth and special destiny prefigures in a significant way the arrival of Jesus. What indeed will this child become, this Jesus who is announced as the son of David, the horn of salvation, the fulfilment of the covenant, the coming King.

This question is answered in a later passage in Luke – a passage from the passion narrative. There Jesus hangs on a cross, under an inscription “King of the Jews.” There amongst the few words he speaks on that terrible day is his answer to the thief’s request: “remember me when you come you’re your kingdom”. What sort of King? What sort of Kingdom? It is a far cry from the protocol we would expect in the presence of royalty.

Zechariah’s song said God had looked favourably upon his people

Jesus on the cross experienced the face of God turned away.

Zechariah’s hymn says God has raised up a mighty saviour.

Other gospel writers speak of Jesus being raised up too – raised up on a cross to die.

Zechariah prophesied that God’s people would be saved from their enemies and persecutors.

Jesus gave himself into the hands of those who hated him and what he stood for.

Thus, says Zechariah, has God shown the mercy promised to our ancestors.

Thus, says the cross, is mercy available to all because God’s son gave up his life.

So we have these two pictures of Jesus to hold together – the long awaited Saviour who would bring fulfilment and blessing and peace – and the suffering servant, giving his life for the sake of the world. If we are to follow the King of the gospels we need to learn to serve.

Let me illustrate this with a story:

Once upon a time these was a Squire who longed to be a knight. He wanted to serve his king and be the most honourable and noble knight who ever lived. At his knighting he was so overcome by dedication that he made a special oath. He vowed to bow his knees and lift his arms in homage to his king and him alone. This knight was given the task of guarding a city on the frontier of the kingdom. Every day he stood at attention by the gate of the city in full armour.

Years passed. One day as he was standing at attention guarding his post a peasant woman passed by with goods for the market. Her cart turned over spilling potatoes and carrots and onions everywhere. The woman hurried to get them all back in her cart. But the knight wouldn't help the poor woman. He just stood at attention lest he break his vow by bending his knees to help pick up the woman's goods.

Time passed and one day a man with one leg was passing by and his crutch broke. "Good knight, sir, reach down and help me up." But the knight would not stoop or lift a hand to help lest he break his vow.

Years and decades passed, the knight was getting old. One day child came by and said, "Excuse me Sir, would you pick me up and take me to the fair?" But he would not stoop lest he break his vow to the king.

Finally after many, many, years the king came to visit and inspect the knight. As the king approached the knight just stood there at attention. The king inspected him as he stood there, but then he noticed that the knight was crying. You are one of the noblest knights I have ever seen why do you cry? Your majesty, I took a vow that I would bow and lift my arms in homage to you but I am unable to keep my vow. These years have done their work and the joint of my armour are rusted. I cannot lift my arms or bend my knees.

With the loving voice of a parent the King replied, "Perhaps if you had knelt to help all those who passed by, and lifted your arms to embrace all those who came to you, you would have been able to keep your vow to pay me homage today."

The calendar year is fast drawing to a close. The new liturgical year has begun for us. Advent is a time of preparation, a time of waiting and a time of reflecting. God is coming as king of the world, but that kingship is not of our way of understanding royalty and people of importance. Following the King of the gospels means being ready to bend our knee to help others, to lift our arms to embrace those in need, to lay down our lives.

The second half of Zechariah’s song keeps the themes of salvation and mercy, but focuses attention on John, the forerunner of the Saviour. “You, child, will be called the prophet of the most high. You will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people.” Significant events need preparation. Planning, working, getting ready. In the church we need preparation for Christmas. You may thing there is too much preparation for Christmas. Decorations in the shops by late October, carols piped through shopping malls, Santas everywhere and Christmas parties beginning well before now. One of my sons said with some exasperation while watching TV and hearing the umpteenth ad for Christmas specials – “Well, Christmas has come”. But perhaps because of this very multiplication and commercialisation of Christmas we are missing the opportunities to really prepare, and because of it we are missing the deep heart of the season.

John the Baptist who prepared the way for Jesus had a message that brought the Jews back to the heart of their faith. Not to keep themselves pure to the exclusion of the needy, but to show mercy and kindness and justice.

When we were on holiday in Central Australia in October we decided to go on a tour to do some gem fossicking. We followed the guide 30 km or so along the road away from the campsite to the gemfields. When we got there it looked much like the campsite we’d just left. Stony ground with small shrubby bushes. But the guide showed us how to sift through the stony rubble and dip possible gems in water and hold them up to sunlight to sort them out amongst the rubble. In about an hour and a half we’d found a dozen or so gem quality stones. When we got back to the campsite we were taken to the jewellery shop and shown what would happen when our gems were cut and polished and set into lovely jewellery and ornaments.

It seems to me that the song of Zechariah is like a polished gem in a beautiful setting - the prophecy and expected fulfilment of the saving King who would soon come into the world of darkness.

But as we read on and see how this king was manifested, first as a baby in poor and scandalous circumstances, then as a man with no home and no respectable lifestyle, then as a criminal raised up on a cross rather than a throne, we have to baptise these stories in faith and hold them up to the light of the resurrection before we can really understand their worth and their testimony to the King of Kings. Our preparation to meet this king includes wrestling with the stories of his life on earth, and accepting our need to follow his path of service and true humility.

I’m calling this series of sermons in Advent “Seasons greetings.” The song of Zechariah is framed by greetings: “blessed” at the beginning - the Jewish greeting applied to God and “peace” at the end - the greeting applied to humans. The world of the gospels under the Roman rule was officially a time of peace, but it was still a world filled with fear, injustice, violence and crime. It was to this world that Zechariah’s prophecy promised peace. Our world has yet to know peace. And as a result we are being led to believe that fear should determine public and economic policy. Following the federal election Michael Leunig published one of his incisive political cartoons. Between two quotations was a confused figure floating in space. At the top was a quote from Mahatma Ghandi: ‘The things that will destroy us are politics without principle, pleasure without conscience, wealth without work, knowledge without character, business without morality, science without humanity and worship without sacrifice’. Underneath was a quote from our prime minister during the election campaign: ‘The things that will destroy us are terrorism, greenies and high interest rates.’

The greetings we share with each other as members of the Kingdom of God cannot be based on fear. We need higher ideals, a vision of something greater than our own hip pockets. We need to keep alive the hope of the women meeting earlier this week to promote peace for women and girls in war torn places. We need to challenge our government to make policies determined by love and compassion as expressed by Michael Long’s walk to Canberra this week. We need to remind ourselves of the promises that God’s mercy has broken upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness, to guide our feet into the way of peace.

This is no small greeting! It is being given responsibility to shine in the world’s darkness and announce the dawn of the Kingdom of God. How we live as part of that Kingdom has been shown to us by Jesus.

What would this child become?

What sort of King would this be?

One who showed us how to be great by serving others. Let us also serve each other as we hear seasons’ greeting today.