Scripture Luke 1:57-66
Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her.
On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him Zechariah after his father. But his mother said, “No; he is to be called John.” They said to her, “None of your relatives has this name.” Then they began motioning to his father to find out what name he wanted to give him. He asked for a writing tablet and wrote, “His name is John.” And all of them were amazed. Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God. Fear came over all their neighbors, and 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?” For indeed the hand of the Lord was with him.
Sermon
This is the moment of joy for Elizabeth and Zechariah. This is always a special moment for any family—the arrival of a child. But here, there are so many variables that make it, simply, amazing. The advanced ages of the parents. The family trees of the parents, overflowing with priests from the beginning of the priesthood itself. The silence of the priest Zechariah for the full nine months of his wife’s pregnancy, and even a week beyond. Then, the miraculous return of speech when he fulfills the announcement of the angel Gabriel, when he yields to the power of God, with whom, all things are possible: that moment when he takes a tablet and writes on it, “His name is John.” There is a mixture of amazement and fear among the neighbors who have gathered for such a big community event: the naming of the child. Fear, because of the mysterious coming and going of Zechariah’s voice, which the people initially recognized as something that had the hand of God in it. But amazement overwhelms them, and the question begins to be murmured, there in the Temple, and soon, throughout the hill country that is Elizabeth and Zechariah’s home: “What then will this child become?” (Luke 1:66)
We know very little about the childhood of Jesus. We know even less of John’s. But one thing we heard two Sundays ago tells us a lot. When Gabriel appeared to Zechariah in the Temple, he said,
“[The child] must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit.” ~Luke 1:15b
The warning about alcoholic beverages tells us that John is going to be a Nazirite. Nazirites were people specially dedicated to God—both women and men. Usually this calling was discerned during childhood. Rarely, as in this case, it was determined by God before the child was even born. In addition to abstaining from strong drink as well as grapes in every form, Nazarites had strict rules about cutting their hair. At age 14, he began his training as a Nazirite. One strange discipline of the Nazirites was that they never dealt with the dead—not even their own parents. This was a part of their call to holiness.
Many scholars believe that John spent his training in the Judean desert. There, he may have lived in a community such as the Essenes, an apocalyptic sect of Judaism who believed that the end of all things was imminent. His time there would include seven years of training as a priest. When he reached age 30, he would have been reintegrated into society. Before this took place, his hair would be cut and burned as an offering to God.
Then, John would have been free to do whatever he wanted. The idea of being a Nazirite was to walk the path of holiness among God’s people, thereby strengthening the community with your wisdom and witness. With a father who was a priest and the training he’d undergone he could easily have been a priest. He could have been a rabbi—30 was the age at which a person could begin that work (which is probably why Jesus begin his ministry at that age). But that’s not what he chose to do. That’s not what he was called to do. Later in Luke’s gospel, we meet John as an adult:
In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar… the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins… ~Luke 3:1-3
John was preparing the world for something—for someone—and that meant that people needed to get right with God. He was a fire-and-brimstone kind of preacher, who didn’t hesitate to call the crowd who came out to see him a “brood of vipers,” and to tell them “Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees.” The old ways aren’t working anymore. Someone new is coming. Luke doesn’t tell us about John’s fashion choices or his unusual diet, but Matthew and Mark do:
Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. ~Matthew 3:4
John had pared his life down to this one focus. Luke straight up tells the reader that John is fulfilling the words of Isaiah,
“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord;
make his paths straight.’” ~Luke 3:4
When people asked whether he was the Messiah, John replied clearly and directly:
“I baptize you with water, but one who is more powerful than I is coming…”
(~Luke 3:16b)
How did this child of privilege come to make these bold choices? How did he hear and embrace such a distinct calling? Why didn’t he do the expected thing, and go into the family business?
I believe John allowed himself to be amazed. Amazed at the star-crowded night sky in the desert. Amazed at the lizards who found a way to survive in the wilderness. Amazed, perhaps, at the story of his own birth, and the birth of his cousin. But certainly, and most profoundly, I believe he allowed himself to be amazed by God… the God whose works we named in our call to worship, when we said:
Our God can part the sea.
Our God can bring water from a rock,
and provide bread in the desert.
Our Lord can walk on water.
He can heal the sick,
and turn water into wine.
Our God sets the stars in the sky.
God hears our voice when we cry,
and is closer than our own breath.
There is nothing our God cannot do.
And so, we called ourselves to stand in awe, and to worship God with wonder.
I believe that is the God John encountered. Immersed in scripture from the time he was young, immersed in a wild and challenging terrain as his home, and trained for his calling to be a holy and wise person in society, John let God in. John was from a reasonably comfortable background and likely never knew hunger or want or neglect as the cherished late-in-life child he was. John had the ability, the space within, to open himself, not only to God, but to the world as it was, in all its beauty and all its pain. John allowed himself to be amazed by all of it.
Today we live in a world in which the Hubble telescope can show us images that are billions of light years away. We live in a world in which each of us can log onto a website on and be in touch with as many people as we like, old friends and new, watch their videos, see their pictures from the other side of the planet. We live in a world in which we can carry powerful computers with access to seemingly limitless information in our pockets, and, oh, by the way, we can call and order take out with them, too. Is there anything left that can amaze us? Can we still be amazed?
I’d ask each of you to take a moment to reflect on your life and try to remember an amazing thing that happened to you. I’ll give you a few moments to consider that, and then I’d like you to turn to a person nearby—better if it’s not your spouse or someone who already knows everything about you. Let’s take two minutes to do this.
[2 minutes]
Would anyone like to share an amazing thing that happened to you, or to the person who just shared with you?
I’m going to bet that the amazing things that happened to you were pretty much like the amazing things that John took in.
Recovering from an illness.
An experience of nature, whether on the top of a mountain, or at the ocean, or gazing at a spectacular sunset or sunrise… and on and on and on.
Welcoming a child into your family. Holding that child for the first time.
Experiencing love.
Experiencing God’s love.
To do any of these, we must open ourselves up to the experience. We must let it in. Those of you reading our devotional this Advent may have encountered this poem this morning. It is about this very thing: opening ourselves up to the fullness of life. Allowing ourselves to be amazed.
We could play hard and fast,
not let anything touch us at all,
keep composure,
have all the answers.
Or we could crack ourselves open
and let everything in.
We could feel everything,
every touch, every marvel.
We could stand gaping
at the beauty of the world,
mouths wide open (because sometimes
a mouth wide open is the very best gratitude).
We could laugh so loudly
that the whole restaurant looks,
and err on the side of goofy
whenever possible.
We could put our defenses down.
We could grow soft.
We could choose awe.
We could take her by the arm.
We could let her lead us all the way to joy. [1]
When was the last time you let yourself be amazed? For me, it has been the experience of going from pain and immobility to a re-gaining of the ability and energy to walk, to swim, to do yoga—and all, with no pain. I was and remain amazed that such a thing is possible. I find it a wonder that God has created beings who could discover out how to provide this kind of healing. I can’t believe I was able to benefit from it.
I’m also the one who took approximately forty pictures of a sunrise over Cape Cod Bay in October. No regrets. It was amazing.
God wants us to let ourselves be amazed. God wants our amazement to lead us to joy. It’s that simple. The ability to be amazed also correlates with the ability to have faith—the understanding that while we can’t know everything, we can trust some things in a way that is grounding and joyful. Like Elizabeth and Zechariah, like their son John, may each of us be amazed, each day of our lives, until we have the most amazing reunion with the One who formed us in our mothers’ wombs.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[1} “All the Way to Joy” by Rev. Sarah Are Speed | A Sanctified Art | @sanctifiedart.org