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Being near God is dangerous. That’s what Moses would have said after his encounter with the burning bush that proclaimed “I AM WHO I AM.” That’s what Malachi envisioned in his prophecy where even God’s messenger will be like a refiner’s fire or fuller’s soap. And that is what Zachariah found out when he was in the holy of holies and didn’t believe an angel who said he and Elizabeth would have a child in their old age.
And yet, being near God opens our eyes to new possibilities, and might even bring the impossible into our lives. After nine months of forced muteness because of that angel encounter, Zachariah holds the miracle baby boy John in his hands, and lifts a song to God. It is a song so powerful, and so universal in its scope that it is part of morning worship across the Christian Church (found in your hymnals!).
VERSE 1
1. Blest be the God of Israel, who comes to set us free;
who visits and redeems us, who grants us liberty.
The prophets spoke of mercy, of freedom and release;
God shall fulfill that promise and bring the people peace.
Anytime you hold a baby in your arms you can’t help but look to the future. You dream dreams for that child. You watch, and wait, and are amazed. We can only imagine what Zachariah and Elizabeth (or for that matter Mary and Joseph) thought as their sons were born, as they took care of them in infancy, and encouraged them take their first steps, and tried to keep them out of trouble, and watched them grow into independent strong men.
We talk about watching and waiting in Advent. But I wonder if we also ought to talk about things that new parents know only too well: the need for patience, the overwhelming tiredness, the fear you aren’t doing it right, the joy in the moment. Zachariah reminds us that Advent is about the birth of babies, and the promise of newness for us all.
VERSE 2
2. God from the house of David a child of grace has given;
a Savior comes among us to raise us up to heaven.
Before him goes the herald, forerunner in the way,
the prophet of salvation, the harbinger of day.
Every year Seasons of the Spirit (our curriculum and guide for worship preparation) gathers people from a certain part of the world to help write liturgy from their perspective. This year those people are from Hawaii. And they had a very interesting take on Advent.
We talk about the kingdom of God being near. We talk about the dawning reign of God. We wonder when it will appear. We watch and we wait. But how does it happen? How long will it take? Those are questions that have been asked as far back as humans can remember.
The islands of Hawaii offer us a picture that could be useful. Fire burns under the Pacific Ocean—creating “hot spots.” Liquid lava flows out of these hot spots and layer by layer begins to create a new place. These new islands spend hundreds of thousands of years below the surface of the water, and then continue to grow after breaking through. When ocean plates shift, the newly created island moves away from the hot spot and the cycle starts again.
The oldest large island in the Hawaiian chain is Kaua’i—farthest from the hot spot. Hawai’i, the Big Island, is close to the hot spot and still has five active volcanoes. And way below on the ocean floor is the newest of the islands, Lo’ihi. It will not be seen above water for tens of thousands of years.
We are an impatient people, used to fast food, instant communication, and getting what we want NOW.
Advent calls us to stop our busyness and enter into God’s time.
Advent reminds us that we are branches of an ancient tree, with new shoots every season.
Advent asks us to participate in the layering of God’s kingdom, knowing that the dawn is coming, that the flames Moses saw, the refiner’s fire that Malachi pictured, and even the tongues of fire at Pentecost, speak of a new day, a new community, a new world.
We don’t know how many islands it will take before the job is done. What we can count on is that the fire of God will never go out. And that something new is constantly born from it.
May this be true in our lives as well.
VERSE 3
3. On those who sit in darkness the sun begins to rise,
the dawning of forgiveness upon the sinner’s eyes.
God guides the feet of pilgrims along the paths of peace.
O bless our God and Savior with songs that never cease!
Alleluia. Amen.
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