Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel; he has come to his people and set them free ☩ in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
You may have noticed that this morning’s psalm does not come from the Book of Psalms, but rather from Luke. A psalm is a hymn to God found in Scripture, and this passage from Luke certainly fits that definition. This particular psalm is known as the “Benedictus” because that is the Latin translation of the first word “blessed,” and historically, that is how psalms are named.
Those of you who are familiar with the custom of praying the Daily Office know this passage, as it is one of the canticles that is used regularly in Morning Prayer. The line “the dawn from on high shall break upon us,” is appropriate for usage in the mornings as the dawning sun reminds us of God’s dawning salvation in Jesus Christ. And even if you aren’t yet in the habit of praying the Daily Office, I’d commend using the Benedictus each morning to root your day in prayer.
Unlike most psalms in the Book of Psalms, we actually know the story behind this particular song of praise. Zechariah and Elizabeth are named as righteous and faithful people, but they are older and have never had a child. In their time, children were seen as gifts from God, and so the infertility of a religious couple was troubling and confusing. One day though, when Zechariah was offering incense in the Temple as a part of his priestly duties, an angel of the Lord comes to him and says “Your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear a son, and you will name him John.” So, it’s clear that in offering incense in worship, we are much more likely to receive the blessings of God, so bear that in mind next time you see the thurible.
Zechariah though has questions about how this will happen, as both he and Elizabeth are well past childbearing years. The angel explains “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to you to speak to you and to bring you this good news.” Essentially, Gabriel’s answer is “Because I said so.” And for this lack of trust, Zechariah is made mute, unable to speak until the child has come.
Now, you might wonder why Zechariah is made mute; after all, when Gabriel goes to Mary just a few verses later in Luke, Mary will say “How can this be?” and she is not rebuked for her question. One way to distinguish between the two responses is that Mary is asking “how is this going to happen” whereas Zechariah asks “How will I know that this is so?” Mary is confused and is asking a clarifying question. Zechariah is unsure and is asking for proof. But as we all know, something that we don’t get in life is absolute certainty. Faith is not about having enough facts in order to make a decision, rather faith is about having trust in God. Mary demonstrates that trust in God in a way that Zechariah is unable to. But notice that Zechariah is not condemned or rejected for his lack of faith; rather, he’s given the opportunity to sit in silence and witness the glory of God instead of trying to explain it.
There is some wise spiritual advice that comes from the monk, Thomas Keating, who died just over a month ago. He once said, “Silence is God’s first language; everything else is a poor translation.” Certainly, words are important and powerful. Our liturgy is full of words that point us towards God. But silence is holy. This time of year is busy and stressful, so let this be an invitation to sit in silence. Even 5 minutes a day, just set a timer on your phone and sit in silence.
As the story continues in Luke, the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth is put on hold as we move to seeing the angel Gabriel visit Mary and announce to her that she will bear the Messiah. Mary then goes to visit Elizabeth, who is a relative of hers. Luke then records another psalm, this time it is the Magnificat, the song of Mary. And then the story picks back up with the birth of Elizabeth’s son. When it was eight days after the birth, it was time to circumcise and name the child. Zechariah is still unable to speak, and so the family assumed that the child’s name would be Zechariah, Jr. But Elizabeth says it should be “John.” The family protests by saying “That’s not a family name, you can’t just name this miracle child ‘John.’” So they motion to Zechariah to have him write the child’s name on a tablet, and he writes “John.”
Names in the Bible are really important. Zechariah means “God remembers,” and indeed, God remembers Zechariah and Elizabeth. Elizabeth means “God is my oath,” and we see this in her faithful living and obedience to God. And John means “God is gracious.” Some scholars have suggested that this opening chapter of Luke is an overture to the entire Gospel. It sets the tone and introduces themes that will appear throughout Luke and Acts. And the name “John” certainly is an overture for John’s role.
Given that Mary and Elizabeth are relatives, Jesus and John are cousins. And as we heard in the second passage from Luke this morning, John the Baptist is given a special role in the story of God’s salvation through Jesus. John is the “voice that cries out in the wilderness.” Throughout John’s ministry, he is pointing to the fact that God is gracious, as John’s own name declares. But once his name is settled, the family asks the question “What then will this child become?”
The answer to that question comes in the Benedictus, the psalm spoken by Zechariah. These are the first words that Zechariah has said in months, so they are the fruit of much quiet introspection and prayerful silence. There are two movements to the Benedictus, the first half is about God’s faithfulness and the second half is about Zechariah’s and Elizabeth’s son, John.
Notice in the first half how all the verbs speak about God’s active work in the world. It begins with God coming to his people, and word that is used doesn’t mean that God has just dropped in for a visit, but it’s the word that is used when you go to visit someone who is sick. God deeply cares for us and comes to us in Jesus to offer us healing grace. God has come to tend to us and sets us from that which is making us ill, namely Sin and Death. God has raised up this savior and is faithful to the promises of old.
So often when we talk about faithfulness, we tend to think about ourselves. How often do I pray, how much do I give, how do I treat others? Those are not necessarily bad questions to ask, but the Benedictus reminds us that the grace of the Gospel isn’t a product of our faithfulness, but rather it is God’s faithfulness that saves us. God has remembered the mercy promised to previous generations and remembers the covenant of love that was made first with Noah, and then renewed with Abraham, Moses, David. We’ve seen this faithfulness of God in the stories of Sarah, Rebecca, and Ruth. Zechariah’s psalm shows us that the culmination of God’s faithful promise is Jesus Christ. God is faithful and trustworthy, so we can rest secure in our hope that all shall be well.
The promised salvation that is depicted here is both political and personal. Zechariah says that this salvation will “set us free from the hands of our enemies” and will give us the “mercy shown to our fathers.” We are saved from both the things outside of us and inside of us that seek to destroy us. We will be saved from our sins and from those who hate us, but that is only half of the equation of salvation.
Not only are we saved from something, but we are saved for something. Zechariah sings that this salvation makes us “free to worship God without fear, holy and righteous in God’s sight all the days of our life.” Salvation is not a status, it is a catalyst. The whole reason why God wants to free us from our sins and those who hate us is that we might be able to worship God and live upright lives. God
In the second half of the Benedictus, Zechariah’s psalm turns to prophecy about his newborn son. He notes that John’s role will not be to be the Messiah, but rather to prepare the Messiah’s way. It’s important to notice that it is the unique mission of John to prepare the way of the Lord. That is not our mission. So often, you’ll hear Christians speak about our job of “building the kingdom.” And while thought behind such a statement is laudable, it is flawed. God builds the kingdom, not us. At best, we are the bricks that God uses.
Why this matters is that too often the Church confuses our mission. Often, we think it is our job to bring salvation to the world. We take ourselves too seriously when we make that our mission. For one, that’s putting ourselves in God’s shoes. But we’re also setting ourselves up for failure because we are not the Messiah, and if we try to be, we’re only going to make thing worse.
Instead, what the Benedictus shows us is the shape of the salvation that we receive. Zechariah says that we are given “knowledge of salvation.” It’s a reminder that salvation is something we are given, not something we produce. The first marker of this salvation is named as the “forgiveness of sins.” And this is about so much more than the fact that you are forgiven for the things you have done and left undone. Absolutely, you are forgiven for those sorts of things that we might call mistakes or offenses.
But more than that, you are forgiven for not being perfect. No one is perfect. And yet God loves you, redeems you, and forgives you. We are liberated from needing to earn our salvation, or attempting to justify ourselves, or make ourselves worthy of being loved. Already, God loves you. You don’t need to pray more often for that to be true. You don’t have to be able to afford Christmas gifts for other people in order to be deemed worthy of love. You don’t have to stress about whether or not people like you. Instead, you are released from all the expectations, oughts, and shoulds. You are free, and that is the central message of this salvation which John is pointing us towards.
This salvation is further seen as the dawning light that shines in our darkness. This is clearly a reference to the fact that Jesus saves us from the “shadow of death” in his Resurrection, but it also refers to all the other darknesses of our lives. This “tender compassion of God” is with us as we suffer from all the dark moments of life – division, illness, grief, depression, stress about your job or money, family estrangement, worrying about your children as they grow, worry about your aging parents, worrying about your aging self. In all of this darkness, the light of God shines as God is faithful to the promise to always be with us.
The last aspect of this salvation is that we are led “into the way of peace.” Peace in the Bible is so much more than the lack of conflict; instead, peace is rooted in the Hebrew notion of shalom, the state of all things being as God intended them to be. This promise of shalom is a promise that we are continually living into. The fullness of God’s peace lies in the day when Christ shall come in clouds descending. And yet this future peace is breaking on the shores of the present. The light of God’s salvation shines that we might see these waves of peace as they come.
As we are in the midst Advent, that season of hoping and waiting, I commend the Benedictus to you this week. This psalm of Zechariah reminds us that God is faithful toward us. God remembers us, is with us, and comes to us out of great love for us. The Benedictus reminds us that salvation is a gift from God, not a reward to be achieved through our actions. And the Benedictus shows us the shape of our salvation – that our sins are forgiven, that God’s light is always shining on our path, and that God’s redemption is continually unfolding in Jesus Christ. Pray with the Benedictus this week, that God’s promises and peace might be planted in your heart, giving you the knowledge of God’s tender compassion for you, so that you might be free to worship God without fear and with your whole life.
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel; he has come to his people and set them free. Amen.
