The Song of Zechariah, more commonly known as the
Benedictus, normally gets said or sung in morning worship – but on Advent II it
is given a special place. Zechariah, a
priest in the temple, so the story goes, sang this at the circumcision of his
child John, whom we know as John the Baptist.
This was remarkable because Elizabeth his wife had long been labelled
“barren”, which in practice meant useless.
They were elderly people – Luke stresses all this -- they may even have
had their names down for Summerset Falls.
We are also told that Zechariah had been struck dumb, before John’s birth,
for having expressed doubt to the Angel Gabriel that any of this was
possible. So Zechariah’s song was the
first thing he had been able to speak for quite a while. I do hope you are keeping up with me…
For some two-thirds of his song he lyrically celebrates his
belief that God is about to intervene and deliver Israel from the hands of
their oppressors, the Romans. The
Deliverer will be from the royal house of David. Everything God promised to Abraham, and ever
since, is about to be fulfilled. Then
suddenly he directly addresses this baby, his baby, the whole point of the
observance in the temple today. Luke
renders this in Greek as an emphatic shift of focus… and you, little child…[1] Have you ever noticed that abrupt change, as
you recite the Benedictus?
It is difficult to resist, as a father, interpreting this in
21st century terms. What is
Zechariah expecting of his son? A worthy
replica of himself…? a young hero…? a dutiful prospect on which the father will
spend a fortune for education and formation…? a sporting icon perhaps…? a
credit to the family…? a loyal assimilator of his father’s goals and ideals and
values…? Zechariah is not, he is letting go of his son. Certainly he will do all that is expected of
a father and a parent, in love, in nurture, in care and provision, in
counsel… But fatherhood does not mean
ownership and control. Fatherhood
eventually means letting your child go. Your
child is another person, not under constraint to replicate anyone or anything. Zechariah’s child will serve faith and hope
and goodness in his own ways.
The Benedictus ends in sublime poetry about God. Zechariah sings of the tender compassion of our God – the Greek literally says “bowels of
mercy”[2]. He pictures the dawn suddenly rising in the
east, enlightening, shining on those
sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death, guiding our feet into the way
of peace. It is a lovely prophecy
that Zechariah weaves over this newborn child, utterly mysterious, profoundly
hopeful and faith-filled. Advent waits
for the dawn, never more needed than in the 21st century… a dawn of
mercy and truth, light in the darkness, hope for those who see nothing but the shadow of death, a discovery of ways
to live in peace.
[1] Καὶ
σὺ δέ, παιδίον… very focussed and emphatic.
[2] We
have encountered ancient anatomy before.
τα
σπλαγχνα (ta splagchna) means bowels, innards,
heart and lungs. It is seen as where our
deepest feelings and reactions come from.
The word is used here, of God.
No comments:
Post a Comment