19^th December 2012

Rev Dr Max Champion at St John's UCA Mt Waverley Advent 2 Sunday 9 December 2012

Lessons - Malachi 3:1-4; Luke 1:57-80 & 3:1-6

The Word of God came to John, son of Zechariah, in the wilderness.
(Luke 3:2b)

It is most unusual to hear the story of John's birth read in church. In focusing on events surrounding Jesus' birth, we neglect, to our detriment, what Luke tells us at considerable length about the origin and importance of John the Baptist.

We cannot read these passages without being struck by the way in which the lives and destinies of John the Baptist and Jesus are intertwined.
Remarkably, the ageing Elizabeth and the single Mary become pregnant after visitations from 'an angel of the Lord' (Luke 1:5-25 [Zechariah] & 1:26-38 [Mary]). They are united in the belief that what is happening in their bodies is an integral part of God's saving purposes for Israel and 'all flesh'. Therefore the births are the occasion for great joy (1:42; 1:46; 2:10).

There is great warmth in the relationship between Mary and Elizabeth. The events of birth and childhood are depicted with affection. Throughout his Gospel, Luke masterfully sketches the touching, human dimensions of 'ordinary' events through which God makes known his 'extraordinary' saving grace.

Unlike in celebrity biographies, however, Luke is not interested in recording the lives of the characters in minute detail from conception to death. Looking back on the historical events of Christ's life, death and resurrection, he draws attention to elements in the infancy narrative that help to interpret the universal scope of what God is doing in the world.

As we read the story, we must not let our pre-occupation with 'bare facts' or 'literal truth' distract us from Luke's message. He is certainly interested in 'ordinary' history. At the start of chapters 1, 2 and 3 he locates the unfolding events in their geographical, political and religious settings. What happened in and around the births, lives and deaths of John and Jesus at a particular time in history is of utmost historical importance.

These stories are not myths or fairy tales but imaginative descriptions of specific historical events that have significance for the whole of history.

However, what Luke tells us in this extended infancy narrative does sound like legend! It is highly stylised. The parallels between John and Jesus and Elizabeth and Mary seem somewhat strained. But this does not mean that what he says can be discarded as being 'historically false'. Eduard Schweizer puts it well: 'The infancy stories describe in legendary form what really happened.' (The Good News according to Luke, p17.)

As a good novelist, Luke shapes legends that have been passed down to him to arouse our curiosity. As a good historian he looks for the pattern in the unfolding events. As a good theologian he discerns in these events the subtle working out of God's redemptive purposes.

He tells us that the birth of John the Baptist took place during the reign of the Roman ruler Herod to a righteous Jewish couple who had a priestly heritage (1:5). In the prelude to John the Baptist's preaching in the wilderness, his attention to historical detail is even more particular (3:1,2). What is happening in the events surrounding the birth of John the Baptist is of the greatest political and religious significance.

In this way, Luke makes it clear that he is not dealing with myths or fairy tales but with 'ordinary' events in which 'extraordinary' things are taking place. He draws together all the resources at his disposal - legends, anecdotes and memories - to craft a powerful and imaginative theological account of God's redeeming presence in the world.

Not everyone will see what is happening. But Luke is keen to encourage Jews and Romans alike to trust the historical basis for his theological claims.

This is evident in the prophecy of Zechariah (1:67-79) where Luke links John the Baptist with the past and future of Israel. He rehearses God's covenantal grace to the people through such figures as David (v69), the prophets (v70) and Abraham (v73). In poetic and credal form, he calls to mind God's fidelity in saving them from being destroyed by hate-filled enemies (vv71,73) and from their own stubbornness (vv72,77).

However, the memory of God's 'tender mercies' (v78) is not an occasion for nostalgia about the past but a summons to see God's future. A prophet of the Most High God (v76) is coming to alert Israel to the approaching dawn when 'light shall shine on those who now sit in darkness and in the shadow of death' (vv78,79).

The key to understanding the nature of this hope is found in the naming of John the Baptist (vv59-66). The prelude (1:8-25) tells of the angel Gabriel announcing to Zechariah, in the midst of his priestly service in the temple, that Elizabeth will bear a son. He is told that their son - whom he is to call John (1:13) - will issue a wake-up call so that people will be ready for the 'coming of the Lord' (1:17).

Naturally Zechariah is a bit sceptical about this 'good news' (1:18). The angel is unimpressed, 'striking him dumb until the day these things occur' (1:20).

Fast forward nine months! It was customary for the father to name the child. It was not a matter of choosing a nice-sounding name but a name that would determine his character. Tradition laid down that the son of a priest should be named after his father. So he should be called Zechariah, meaning 'the Lord has remembered'. The silent Zechariah writes 'His name is John', which means 'God's gracious gift' or 'the Lord is merciful' (1:58-63). This amazes their neighbours and friends and the priests circumcising the boy, who plead with him to change his mind. At that moment of writing, Zechariah's speech returns!

In the poetic creed that follows, Zechariah (vv67-79) does 'remember' God's mercy to Israel. And he is hopeful of a new dawning of holiness, righteousness, forgiveness and peace (vv75,77,79). But the fact that he does not choose the name and obeys the angel's command (1:13) tells us that family tradition and religious custom do not determine God's future.
What is going to happen in John's life is decided, not by human agency, but by the redemptive purposes of the Most High (1:76) - the God whose mercy had sustained, guided and unsettled Israel throughout the centuries.

Luke's focus on Israel's memory may seem a bit removed from our immediate experience. But when he tells us about John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness, the emphasis on the past (when Israel experienced desolation) is accompanied by hope. John 'proclaims a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins' (3:3). This does not sound hopeful until we realise that being encountered by the God's mercy is an earth-shaking experience that involves a complete re-orientation of our lives - personally and in the community of faith.

Throughout Luke's wonderfully crafted infancy story about John, we see the same sense of shuddering awe that is evident in many people encountered in Jesus' ministry who are gob-smacked when God acts: crowds, disciples, politicians, priests.

Zechariah is understandably 'terrified, afraid and overwhelmed' by the angelic appearance in the temple (1:12). Incredulous, he is rendered speechless (1:20). Neighbours were 'startled' by the name given to the child (1:63b). They 'trembled with a sense of awe and trepidation' when Zechariah recovered his speech (1:65). These are proper reactions to the presence of God.

Indeed, many of those who later heard John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness were startled and angered when he said that God's saving grace shall be seen, not only to them, but by 'all flesh' (3:6). What is coming in Jesus Christ is a word of hope, not only to Jews but also to Romans and all nations.

It is a great pity that our annual rehearsing of the infancy stories of John the Baptist (and Jesus) seems to have immunised us against a sense of awe and exuberance that we find in Luke's (and other) profound interpretation of these extraordinary events. If familiarity does not always breed contempt, it certainly can dampen joyous enthusiasm! But all is not lost. There is hope for us if Zechariah and Elizabeth and their priestly families and neighbours, who were so familiar with Jewish customs and beliefs, were bowled over by what took place around the birth of John.

Our society is so dismissive of tired Christian traditions and a Church that is more comfortable remembering the past than being alert to the signs of hope in God's future. Therefore we should pray to be filled with the same Spirit that unsettled, silenced and changed Zechariah (1:8ff,67).

Praying for a vision of God's future hope carries the risk that we, too, will become awestruck (1:12,65) or speechless (1:20) in the presence of the Most High God (1:76)! But might not it be better, in re-hearing the infancy narratives, to be unsettled and silenced before the God of mercy than to simply carry on with our familiar Christmas customs? If so, then we too will be ready to welcome Christ and to give voice to the good news that, in the midst of much desolation on earth, 'all flesh' may live in hope (3:6).

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Rev Dr Max Champion is minister in the St John's Uniting Church, Mt Waverley, Victoria, Australia. Dr Champion is Chair of the Assembly of Confessing Congregations within the UCA.