Zechariah said to the angel, ‘How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years.’ The angel replied, ‘I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. But now, 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.’ (Luke 1.18-20 NRSV)
Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth, parents to St John the Baptist, are lesser known characters in the Christmas story. They didn’t qualify for the pageant — their figurines don’t appear in any Nativity set. But Luke thought this old, childless couple important, and he placed them at the beginning of his Gospel.
Zechariah received the angel’s news of his son’s birth while at the Temple on incense duty, a once in a lifetime opportunity for him. The Mishnah describes a complicated affair involving ladles, firepans and times of prostration. Zechariah had never done this, of course, and must have wanted to do it well.
The angel’s interruption startles and terrifies him. That in this state he gets muted for asking an honest question has always seemed harsh to me. (Mary later asks an honest question of the angel but gets no reprimand.)
So Zechariah and Elizabeth enjoy the gift of an unexpected child in their lives. Their ‘barrenness,’ a hard thing in that culture, is healed at last.
But it isn’t really. Their son grew up to be a strange, locust-eating prophet — not the kind to come home for Thanksgiving. The wilderness took him away. The story ends with Zechariah and Elizabeth facing another kind of barrenness, having lost their only son to the desert.
I wonder if it was worth it for Zechariah, to have a small part in the biblical drama. Maybe he would rather have had grandchildren. His song sounds hopeful, but many emotions can hide under a melody. “Even in laughter, the heart is sad, and the end of joy is grief.” (Proverbs 14.13 NRSV)