Luke 1:57-80, Isaiah 54:1, Isaiah 9:2, Psalm LXX 17/MT 18:1-3
Orthodox, when they remember the Annunciation of Gabriel to the virgin Mary, cry out in joy, “Today is the beginning of our salvation, the revelation of the eternal mystery!” A similar thing happens with the advent of the Forerunner, the one seated on the other side of our Lord. When Elizabeth gives birth there is a great outcry of joy, for her child, who will be called Johanan, God is gracious, is the first tangible sign of the Messiah to come three months later. This becomes very clear in Zechariah’s song, traditionally known as the Benedictus (“Blessed be God!”) who concentrates more on the One to come than on his own infant son. Out of barrenness comes forth this prophet of the Most High, the one who will prepare the way for the Most Holy, who Himself is coming to rescue from enemies, and to give light to the whole world. In this passage, Luke 1:57-80, we see the themes of barrenness removed, hope, and the dawning of salvation, with echoes from especially Isaiah and the Psalter. Here is the passage:
Now the time came for Elizabeth to be delivered, and she gave birth to a son. And her neighbors and kinsfolk heard that the Lord had shown great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her. And on the eighth day they came to circumcise the child; and they would have named him Zechariah after his father, but his mother said, “Not so; he shall be called John.” And they said to her, “None of your kindred is called by this name.” And they made signs to his father, inquiring what he would have him called. And he asked for a writing tablet, and wrote, “His name is John.” And they all marveled. And immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke, blessing God. And fear came on all their neighbors. And all these things were talked about through all the hill country of Judea; and all who heard them laid them up in their hearts, saying, “What then will this child be?” For the hand of the Lord was with him.
And his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit, and prophesied, saying, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his people, and has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David, as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, that we should be saved from our enemies, and from the hand of all who hate us; to perform the mercy promised to our fathers, and to remember his holy covenant, the oath which he swore to our father Abraham, to grant us that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies, might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all the days of our life. And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins, through the tender mercy of our God, when the day shall dawn upon us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” And the child grew and became strong in the Spirit, and he was in the wilderness till the day of his manifestation to Israel.
The joy of the friends and family of Elizabeth is great, because God had shown “great mercy to her.” But Zechariah, prophesying in the Spirit, interprets this event as heralding “the tender mercy of our God” towards all “who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.” The theme of barrenness is no new thing in the New Testament. Many noteworthy women of the past, as we have seen in previous episodes, suffered from childlessness—Sarah, the mother of Samson, Rachel, Rebecca, and Hannah. In the context of the dawning new covenant, barrenness has become a sign of the silence of the prophetic word in Israel, and a yearning of God’s people for a new beginning. But that “deep midwinter” had come upon the whole world, and not upon Israel alone: all humankind, and indeed all creation yearned for the light. So we sing in the Synaxis of John the Baptist:
Child of a barren mother, O most venerable John, you were the spiritual dawn announcing the sun who shone forth from the virgin; and you have proclaimed the lamb who in his love for humankind takes away the sin of the world.
John’s birth, then, enacts the deeper prophecy of the righteous Isaiah, who rhapsodizes in the last chapters of his book concerning the new enlightened era that is to come. He speaks not just of Elizabeth, but of the general fruitlessness of humanity, encouraging the desolate to anticipate a new day: “Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband,” says the LORD (Isaiah 54:1). John is one baby: but from his ministry will come many children of God, washed in the river Jordan, and seeing God’s way.
Clement of Alexandria explains the true meaning of the community’s joy, interpreting it in the light of Zechariah’s great song:
For the world was wandering in error, serving the creation in the place of the Creator and was darkened over by the blackness of ignorance. Night, as it were, that had fallen upon the minds of all, permitted them not to see him, who is truly and by nature God. But the Lord of all rose for the Israelites, like a light and a sun. (Commentary on Luke).
Of course, Zechariah is echoing the words of the prophet Isaiah, who spoke of the people who walked in darkness, who would see a great light, and upon whom the light would shine (Isaiah 9:2)!
Not just John’s birth, but even his naming day, point forward to the light to come. As with every Jewish boy, he is brought for circumcision on the eighth day—and so, too, will Jesus be brought! But this eighth day has a great meaning for Christians, who know that it speaks of resurrection from death. The circumcision, a kind of “little death” that makes the child a son of the covenant, points forward to the true life of the eighth day, in which Jesus shows his victory over death, and illumines all. As Zechariah says in his Benedictus, He comes to triumph over our enemies—in this case, the enemy of death!
The theme of newness threads its way through the story, as we learn that there is not only a new baby, but also a new name involved. Elizabeth surprises those around when she insists that he is not to carry on the family name of Zechariah. Her witness to the angelic announcement of the child as John, “God is gracious,” is confirmed by the still-unspeaking Zechariah, who has to make things clear on a tablet. But his time of silence is now broken, and with his writing he bows to the amazing power of God. Niceta of Remesiana, a fourth century bishop of Serbia, known mostly for his Trinitarian Orthodoxy, also has a wise insight for us here regarding Zechariah’s experience:
That which was spiritual in the Old Testament, for example, faith, piety, prayer, fasting, patience, chastity and psalm singing—all this has been increased in the New Testament rather than diminished. Therefore you will find in the Gospel Zechariah, the father of John, who uttered a prophecy in the form of a hymn after his long silence. (Liturgical Singing)
Zechariah, in the understanding of the good bishop, had not simply been struck dumb as a sign of his lack of belief, but had spent the rest of John’s gestation as a kind of Lent, and now was strong enough to utter the great Benedictus, which has nourished Christians for generations. With fasting, faith, piety, and patience comes the word of God, just as day comes after the night. The marvelous opening of Zechariah’s mouth was in itself a sign, along with the name John, so that the people in the whole hill country were alerted that something marvelous was about to happen. A sense of anticipation is seen here, as with the coming of St. Nicholas in the Narnian story: there are signs that God is “on the move.”
Much could be said about Zechariah’s song. It concerns God’s deepest visitation of His people, His redemption, or “buying back” of them from sin and death, and His great strength, raising up “a horn of salvation” for them. The symbolism of “horn” is strong in the Old Testament, used in various poetic and prophetic passages to speak of strength, and majestic rule. We might think especially of the Psalter, and this example from Psalm 17 LXX/ MT18, verses 1-3.
I love you, O LORD, my strength.
The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised,
and I am saved from my enemies.
God, as the divine Warrior-King who rescues His people migh have been understood, in the eyes of many of Jesus’ day, as coming to free the nation of Israel from Rome as he did with Moses and the Egyptians We remember that Hebrew people were, at that time, freed to leave Egypt so that that could go and worship God in the desert and eventually at the mountain. In that story, the Egyptians were the enemies, and by extrapolation, Jewish people throughout the centuries sometimes considered that the enemies of God’s people were pagans in general, especially when they suppressed worship of the true God. However, as Christians we know that we do not wrestle with flesh and blood: Jesus himself said “my kingdom is not of this world.” The rock, shield, stronghold, and deliverance are there to remove even deeper enemies, the enemies of sin and death, as St. Paul makes abundantly clear in his letters. “The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” “But sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, produced in me all kinds of covetousness.” Zechariah looks forward to a “horn of salvation” that is more than a mere king, that answers not to the hopes of the Zealots for an independent Judea, but to the problems that every human being everywhere experiences—corruption, sin, and death. His power remains even for those believers who are in social and political situations even today, where worship of the true God is dangerous.
After looking forward to the coming of the true King of all, Zechariah places his son’s birth into the story, adding “And you, child…” St. Ambrose has something interesting to say about Zechariah’s address to his son John, and does not simply view this as a poetic device:
Some might consider it ridiculous that he spoke to an eight-day-old infant. But if we hold the truth, we will understand that the child who heard the salutation of Mary before his birth could hear the voice of his father. The prophet knew that a prophet has other ears that are opened by the Spirit of God despite bodily age. He who had the disposition to rejoice had the perception of understanding. Exposition of the Gospel of Luke 2.34
These words are a strong reminder of us in this day concerning the humanity and utter significance of the young—whether not-yet-born, or newborn. Speaking in the Spirit, the father recognized the prophetic charism of his own son, called John by the angel, and given a holy task. Those in Protestant circles often wonder about the Orthodox practice of baptizing and admitting infants to the holy mysteries, as though a rational ability to articulate the faith were all that matters. In fact, it is the open ear that God can bring about “despite bodily age.” This holds true, also, for the infirm, such as those with Down’s Syndrome, whom God also dignifies and glorifies by His grace. After all, in God’s eyes we are all of us infirm, needing the light, the medicine of immortality, the oil of healing. The ancient British theologian, the Venerable Bede, emphasizes this aspect of our salvation:
By his appearance in the flesh our Lord visited us when we were distancing ourselves from him, and he chose to seek out and justify us when we were sinners. He visited us as a doctor visits an ill patient, and, in order to cure the ingrained sickness of our pride, he gave us the example of his own humility. He redeemed his people by giving us freedom, at the price of his own blood—we who had been sold into the slavery of sin and were committed to serving the ancient enemy. Homilies on Gospels
Sometimes, however, the medicine is not easy to take. Much of the Forerunner John’s “preparatory chemotherapy” was seemingly harsh and demanding –baptism and repentance for the people of Israel, the challenging of those in authority like Herod and Herodias who had left the ways of the LORD, and his own austere life in the wilderness. This, too, is not new, but seen in the Old Testament prophets as well. As Origen reminds us, “Moses also lived in the desert” (Homilies Gospel of Luke) –as did the Hebrew people, for forty long years before their children entered the promised land. The Good News is truly good, but it does not remove from us the need for effort. Yet, of course, we are not alone. Jesus Himself braved the desert for us, facing not only its barren landscape and hunger, but Satan himself. We can be sure that the light has come, and is illumining us, especially through the trials that we face and will face in this New Year. For God makes promises, and keeps them. Zechariah rejoiced in his son, who announced the fulfillment of God’s promises to the whole world, that in Jesus all the world would be blessed, and each one of us—“the oath which he swore to our father Abraham, to grant us that we might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all the days of our life.”
Edith M. Humphrey 