There’s a Song in Every Silence - December 6, 2015

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Luke 1:68-79

In the Hymn of Promise Natalie Sleeth wrote, "There's a song in every silence seeking word and melody, there's a dawn in every darkness bringing hope to you and me."
Musicians know that rests are as important as the notes in a piece of music, though it takes more discipline to count the rests than it does the notes. Many years ago my mother played cello in the Washington – Idaho Symphony. One year they played for a performance of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite. As I recall her story, there was a long space where the cellos are silent. Mom had to count the measures and then nudge her fellow cellist because he got so busy watching the dancers that he always forgot to come in on time.
This Advent we are focusing on the songs of faith sung by various people in the Bible stories which lead us up to and follow Jesus' birth. Last Sunday we heard Psalm 25, a song of lamentation sung by the people of Israel during a time of personal difficulty. Psalm 25 taught us to sing even when the going is tough.

Today we hear the song of Zechariah. He is not the most familiar Advent figure. You seldom see him in Christmas pageants or in nativity scenes. Zechariah was a priest who served at the temple in Jerusalem. By the time we encounter him, Zechariah is an old man and his wife Elizabeth is equally old. They have no children. One day when Zechariah was serving in the temple, selected by lot to offer incense in the inner sanctum, the angel Gabriel appeared to him and announced that he and Elizabeth would have a son. Zechariah was terrified. "You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth," the angel said. Old Zechariah could only ask, "How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man and my wife is getting on in years?"
It seems like a reasonable question to me. Even Abraham and Sarah had laughed when a visitor told them similarly unbelievable news. As we will hear in a couple of weeks when we get to Mary's song, she too questioned Gabriel when told she would have a child. In her case Gabriel simply reassured. Not so with Zechariah. Maybe as a priest there was a different expectation. He should have known about Sarah's giving birth to Isaac when she was 90. A teenage girl may have gotten more leeway. Gabriel chastised Zechariah for his doubt and delivered the sentence: "Because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time, you will become mute, unable to speak, until the day these things occur."
Talk about a pregnant pause. For nine months Zechariah was silent. For nine months Zechariah could not speak. For nine months he was forced to listen deeply – perhaps to Elizabeth, or the other priests at the temple, and most of all to God. For nine months he had time to reflect on the promise given to him that day at the temple even as he watched Elizabeth's belly grow. And from the silence a song emerged. Eight days after the baby was born, at his circumcision, people debated the name, assuming he would be named after his father. Elizabeth said, "His name is John." It was the name the angel had given all those months ago.
If Zechariah could not speak, I wonder how Elizabeth knew? Maybe he had written to her of his experience in the temple, though it would have been unusual for a woman to be literate. Maybe she had her own encounter with Gabriel. Somehow she knew and when the folks around didn't believe her, they turned to Zechariah who wrote, "his name is John." And then his tongue was freed and Zechariah began to sing.
Zechariah's name means "God remembers" and his song is all about remembrance. God remembered the covenant formed with the people: "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them." Even when words fail us, when life is tough, God does not abandon us. The Greek words translated as "looked favorably" can also mean "visited." Like a faithful friend who remembers someone now living in the nursing home and comes to visit every week, so God remembers us. Though the stroke may have taken speech from us, God does not shy away. Though we may have turned from God, God does not turn from us. God remembers us.
Zechariah lived some two thousand years after Abraham and Sarah with whom God had made that first covenant to bless them that they might be a blessing. For two thousand years God remembered that covenant of blessing. Zechariah sang "he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors and has remembered his holy covenant." Even in his doubt that he and Elizabeth would have a child, Zechariah remembered that God remembered.
Zechariah lived in a time when the Roman government had conquered tiny Israel. He knew what it was to have an enemy. And he sang, "to grant us that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies, might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days."
Whether our enemies are the forces of the Islamic State or the kid at school who spread nasty rumors about you on line, God will rescue us. Whether our enemies are the diseases of our bodies which leave us weak and ill or the diseases of our minds which take from us our memories, God will rescue us. That rescue may come as we learn to make friends with the on line bully or through international diplomacy. It may come as we make peace with our disabilities or as we anticipate heaven. God's rescue often surprises us because it seldom looks like a battlefield victory or an overtime win on the football field. More often it looks like loving our enemies and reconciling after a fight.
Zechariah's song ends as he looks at his infant son: "And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways." John would indeed be the voice in the wilderness crying out to people to prepare the way of the Lord. He foreshadowed Jesus in his ministry and baptized him at the start of Jesus' ministry. During his period of enforced silence, Zechariah remembered the promise that God would send a messiah to deliver Israel. As he held his infant son Zechariah saw the sign of hope yet to come.
Our lives are often noisy. We put buds in our ears to listen to our favorite tunes; play video games with sound effects ranging from crashes and bangs to lilting melodies. I turn on the radio first thing in the morning and half listen to the news as I get dressed and eat breakfast. The mall is filled with muzak and our homes with the sounds of the TV blaring or the kids fighting. It is hard for us to be silent. Even in church I have to force myself to allow for more than a few seconds of silence before I launch into prayer.
This Advent I recommend to you the spiritual discipline of silence. I do not want or expect Gabriel to take speech from you. I am not talking about nine months of silence, or even nine days. I do suggest you make time for silence in your day. Leave the TV or radio off when you get up. Take out the ear buds when you go for a walk.
Walking to work in the morning is one of my favorite times of the day. I do not even own ear buds and I walk alone so the only conversation I have is greeting the people I pass who are walking their dogs or out for a run. Honestly it is not all that silent. On my better days I pay attention to the sounds of the morning: a dog barking or the ducks quaking, the patter of rain on my hat, the swish of my jacket, the wind in the trees, the hum of a car. I try to pray; not the prayer of talking at God but the prayer of listening to God. I seldom have major flashes of insight but I do sometimes get an idea for a sermon or remember that I need to check in with someone who is having a hard time. More often I simply feel God's presence with me in the predawn quiet.
A predawn walk is not for everyone. Maybe you will do better to light a candle after everyone else in the family has gone to bed. For five minutes sit in the darkness and be still.
There's a song in every silence. From the rush of this noisy season I encourage you to make time for some silence. Out of it you may find a new joy as Zechariah did. From the darkness of December you may find that light will dawn as you experience God with you in a new way. God's tender mercy comes to us that we, like John can prepare the way. There's a song in every silence.
Let us take time now for silence. Yes, I'm going to time it so that we have two full minutes of silence. Take time now to be still, to listen, to pray.