Wednesday, 6 March
Luke 1:1-25
Written by Dr Graham Leo. ©2019.
The opening paragraph of Luke could easily have been written in the 21st century. It opens with a scholarly description of the research methodology with which Luke has compiled this Gospel.
He acknowledges other writers: ‘many have undertaken to write’; he notes his sources: ‘eyewitnesses and servants of the word’; he declares his task: ‘to write an orderly account’; and he clarifies his purpose: ‘so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught’.
We ought to read this book, knowing that we are being addressed by a reliable guide, a trusted scholar, not some blogging amateur on a home-made website(!).
Herod would have been long forgotten if he had not been king at the time of Christ’s birth. Luke commences his historical record with the phrase ‘In the time of King Herod’. But ever since, we’ve identified the world’s entire history either as BC or AD. Before Christ or Anno Domini, the Year of our Lord. Luke takes us from ‘In the time of King Herod’ to ‘In the Year of our Lord’ in 24 chapters.
One day, a priest, named Zechariah, was chosen to do the duty of going into the Holy Place and offer the incense as the prayers of the people. This was an honour for which a priest might wait for years. Some might never be chosen, despite a lifetime of service. This was a day of great significance for Zechariah.
As he is preparing the burning coals, and feeling the weight of the glory of this holy place, he is suddenly aware of an unexpected holy presence. An angel is standing almost at his elbow. The words he hears in his startled fear, are words he has longed to hear and has prayed for, many thousands of times. ‘Your wife will bear a son.’
But Zechariah, on this biggest day of his life, in the holiest place he will ever enter, doesn't take the angel at his word. He asks for some assurance, some guarantee, because he doesn't think it is possible, humanly speaking.
Zechariah went to worship and encountered a heavenly being. And he was so astonished that he had trouble believing what he heard. Almost everyone who reads this, is critical of Zechariah. Fancy being in a holy place, getting a message from an angel and not believing it!
But I go to church every week; I partake of the miracle of the Eucharist and I hear the Word of God spoken. And too often, I walk out unchanged. Some people check their phones for messages during the sermon. Others answer their phone when it rings during prayers. Some chat to their neighbour. Some fall asleep. Some daydream. And yes, I confess; I have done most of these myself at some time.
I'm sorry, Zechariah, for criticising you. Dorothy Sayers was right when she said that if we only knew what powers we were dealing with when we went to church, the ushers would be handing out crash helmets, not leaflets. We are like little kids, she said, playing with chemistry sets, not knowing their explosive power.
Some people have felt that the angel was a bit hard on Zechariah. He didn't ask for much, yet was struck dumb. Yes, but remember what was happening here.
Zechariah was a priest with a dignified heritage. He had landed a once-in-a-lifetime honour. His job, his whole life, was to serve God in the holiest place on earth. He had spent decades praying for a miracle, and now he was going to offer prayers on behalf of the entire nation in the Holy Place.
But when heaven turned up at his front door, he slammed it shut, demanding the angel show his identity card in front of the security camera, before he would believe him.
No point being a praying priest if you don't believe in a God who answers prayers. No point being at church on Sunday if you don't believe Jesus rose from the dead. Better go to the beach. Play soccer in the park. At least be honest with yourself and others.
So Zechariah was struck dumb. It was a just judgement.
Read the angel’s icy response. I’ve been a school Headmaster for 25 years. I know how to give someone a good dressing-down if I need to. I can make anyone feel so small they’d like to shrink through the cracks. (Not that I ever would, of course!) But this makes me quail:
I am Gabriel. I stand for all eternity in the presence of the Most High God; I have been sent by Him to tell you, Man, this message. And now you want it in writing? Well, you’ll get some writing. It’s all you’ll be doing for the next nine months.
The next time I am tempted to wonder whether God really means what he says, or can be really trusted to care for me, I had better remember Gabriel’s icy tones.
Luke has told us that his record is to be trusted. He’s outlined his scholarly approach. One of the terms he uses for his sources, ‘servants of the word’ is a word found only here in the New Testament: hyperitai. These were the Keepers of the Scrolls in the Temple and Synagogues. The ones who guarded and preserved the Holy Words of Scripture. Luke says that his sources included those who were ‘becoming hyperitai’. He is clearly aware that his writing will eventually be of the same order as the Torah scrolls. He declares his writing to be trustworthy.
And his very first story is of someone who didn't believe the word of an angel sent to him. As we’ll see tomorrow, this first section is all about words and whether they can be trusted. It’s all about hearing the voice of the Most High God who has chosen this time to bring Good News to the world. And whether that Word can be believed.
Prayer:
Almighty God, forgive me for when I’ve doubted you. Forgive me for not trusting that you love me more than anyone could ever imagine. I choose to remember that you know me more intimately than I know myself – and knew me even before I was born. I hear the words of the eyewitnesses, of the Keepers of the Word over the centuries, and of the angels – and I choose to believe them. On your words, I will stake my life. Amen.
