Advent Calendar – 10 December
Nativity Stories: Zechariah
All men worry when a baby is due. There are too many women in the ground who did not survive their ordeal, too many infants who never lived to praise their Lord, or not beyond a day or two. And Elizabeth so old (forgive me), I did all I could to be ready, and though I could not speak I fairly ran to the midwife when Elizabeth told me she thought it was her time. Through all those hours I waited and imagined the worst, for all Gabriel’s fine words of promise. So when the midwife handed me this tiny bundle of soft, red fragile flesh I could hardly believe it: a son, our only son, our beloved son, so perfect, curly dark hair like mine already growing on his head. And Elizabeth? Tired, sore, but all right.
It seemed the whole village had held its breath, and now they could let it out. Our little house was full of women and men, singing and laughing, and slapping me on the back, though still my tongue was stopped.
We took our tiny boy to the rabbi on the eighth day to be circumcised, when his name was to be announced. “It will be Zechariah, will it not?” the rabbi said. “Your firstborn.”
“No,” said my lovely, proud Elizabeth (why should she not be proud?), “his name is John.”
They couldn’t understand; no Johns had ever been in our family but when still the elders doubted, I wrote exactly what his mother had already said, “His name is John.”
I don’t know why that was the moment my voice was released, though after all that had happened there was nothing on my tongue but “Hallelujah!” Why now and not when he was born? Perhaps in writing as I did heaven noted I had followed Gabriel to the letter, atoning for my doubts.
A broken “Hallelujah!” I cried out again. It scared the people there; Elizabeth too was startled; even I was shocked to hear my voice, older than before, lower, as if a chest of thoughts, hidden deep, was struggling to the surface.
I spoke, or rather growled, with a faith I’d never truly felt coursing through me, of God’s rescue of his people all through our past and on into the future. Words tumbled out of me of the Lord’s covenant with Abraham, and our lives of service in response to such faithfulness. All my love for John broke out in words I said right to his red and angry face: “You’ll go ahead, you’ll tell the truth, you’ll bring freedom from on high, you’ll get us all ready for another.”
No doubt the elders thought it the crazy croaking of an old man, mad with joy at this late fruit when the tree looked half-exhausted, ready for winter’s sleep. Yet I kept on speaking, of God’s gentle love never abandoning those who find themselves in dark places, who feel the nearness of death, a love shining like the candlelight when Gabriel appeared to me, like the first light of morning giving comfort after a sleepless night, promising a new day and the coming, finally, of peace.
Fra Angelico, Zechariah Names His Son John the Baptist