Advent 2, December 5. 2021
Introduction
It was the winter of 1979/1980. I was five years old, and my big brother was 12. One snowy afternoon we were sled riding down a big hill in our back yard we frequently rode down—despite there being a bank of large trees near the bottom. We just avoided them. But we had a new sled this day, one I didn’t know how to steer—but what five year old knows how to steer any sled, especially a cheap plastic, hardware store sled? So on one of my trips down the hill, I of course put myself on a path heading straight for those large trees.
Too young and too scared to know to bail out I just screamed. It was apparent later that my brother saw this trajectory before I did and so he jumped on his legendary SPV sled—heavy and super-fast, especially after rubbing copious amounts of paraffin wax on the bottom; and equipped with those pull levers on each side that were supposed to be brakes, but you could use them to steer, or do massive snow whooshing spin outs. My brother, he was surgical on his SPV sled.
So there I am—helpless little brother—careening head-long toward a patch of large trees, ensnared on a death trap piece of cheap plastic, screaming in terror—when what to my tear riddled eyes should appear—not Santa and his eight tiny reindeer, but my big brother, whooshing down the hill, when suddenly, at great peril to himself, in a Fast and the Furious Sled Riding Edition-Dominick Toretto style rescue— jumps from his sled and pulls me off my wayward sled…which then smashes into the grove of large trees, and explodes into a fiery ball of would be death.
That Fast and the Furious reference only works here if y’all remember back a couple months ago when I admitted to being a huge fan of the Fast and the Furious movies—and Vin Diesel. So if you have forgotten such, then that bit probably didn’t really land well.
And no, the exploding sled into a “fiery ball of death” didn’t actually happen, but if I am ever going to get this story made into a blockbuster movie, then things have to explode, right? I mean, that’s what all the great movie rescue stories have—edge of your-seat, heart-pounding, fear induced suspense…and explosions. Movies like “Apollo 13”; the Iran hostage rescue in “Argo”; “The 33” about the Chilean miners, “Erin Brockovich” who rescues a town from corporate induced water contamination; “Sully” the harrowing story of piolet Sully Sullenberger who makes an emergency landing in New York’s Hudson River. Ok, not all of these have explosions, but if you want to have a blockbuster movie, having them never hurts.
The point though is we love rescue stories. And it doesn’t even need to be human rescues. Who hasn’t watched their fair share of animal rescues? Turtles and ducks being helped to cross roads, a cow with its head stuck between two tree trunks, a dog that’s fallen through ice, a deer with its antlers caught in barbed wire, a shark that washed up on shore, a horse stuck in a quagmire.
We all love a good rescue story. And when we hear about them, we talk about them, and relive them, and share their inspiration. I remember telling my kindergarten teacher about the heroic rescue my brother made to save me. And we do so because after the rescue is done and successful, the edge of your seat fear is gone, replaced by a peace unlike any other—peace that comes from relief and release from the hopeless fear that gripped us.
Which is why we ought to read our bibles more because the Bible is, essentially, one big rescue story—especially the stories of Advent. The Incarnation is nothing less than a rescue story more daring in execution, more breathtaking in scope, more imaginative in design and more thrilling in victory than any blockbuster movie—based in real life—like the stories I mentioned; or even the painfully contrived ones—like every second of every Fast and the Furious movies—despite all of its explosions. And this theme surfaces in today’s reading from the Gospel of Luke: the prayer of Zechariah; known to us as the Benedictus— which is Latin for “blessed”.
No, this blessed story of a rescue mission doesn’t have any actual explosions, but when we take in the broader narrative throughout the season of Advent, then come Christmas, Jesus’ birth does take on its own sort of explosion—the explosion of a prophecy fulfilled, and the rescue of the world. Because for millennia, the people have been waiting for, longing for, crying out for rescue. Rescue from bondage and slavery; rescue from exile, corruption, injustice; rescue from waywardness and sin. And this story of rescue, that begins to unfold more definitively than ever in the Advent season, can guide us into the way of peace.
Move 1
Zechariah is a priest from the Tribe of Levi. He’s basically a country preacher who has been given this once-in-a-lifetime honor of coming to the big city, to enter the Temple, and burn incense as part of his priestly duties. And it’s here he has an encounter with the Angel Gabriel who tells Zechariah he and his wife Elizabeth will have a baby—even though, as Luke notes, “both were getting on in years.” Zechariah confirms this reality when he says to the angel Gabriel, “For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years.” But Just like Abraham and Sarah, Zechariah and Elizabeth are given similar news that God is going to give them a child, and that child is going to be instrumental in a Godly rescue mission. To which Zechariah asks… “How will I know this is so?” And Gabriel explains that, for one thing, Zechariah would be rendered mute until the birth of his son, whose name was to be John. And Zechariah didn’t speak another word until eight days after John’s birth when suddenly, his tongue is freed, and he says, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has … raised up a mighty savior for us.” But not just any run-of-the-mill leader, warrior, or general. He is a “mighty” savior, a “mighty savior for us.”
This is not salvation in the abstract. This salvation is not some dramatically contrived script. This rescue mission is personal—it’s really real. This mighty Savior comes to us in our deepest places of fear to rescue us. And with rescue comes peace—a peace that passes all understanding.
He will offer a way out from what the Apostle Paul calls our “bondage” to sin and our natural propensity to stray from God’s path. This savior will defeat the prince of darkness at his own game. This savior will defeat the greatest enemy of all: death. This savior will, if we follow, guide us from our deepest fears into the way of peace.
Move 2
It is easy to forget during Advent the “reason for the season” is salvation and redemption. Caught up in a whirlwind of office parties, Christmas shopping, tree decorating, gift-wrapping and cookie-baking, our soul’s eternal salvation is not typically as the forefront of our Christmas-to-do’s. Heck, even peace is far from our minds.
It is an inconvenient truth, but Jesus was not born so we would shop till we drop, to exchange presents, to have parties and host lavish family gatherings— as wonderful as these activities are. Jesus was born because after sending sages and prophets into the company of human beings to no effect, a personal visit by the Creator became necessary. We made a mess of things, and so to the rescue comes the Son of God to save us, to guide us to peace, even if it meant he had to die in the process. And this rescue mission, this guided way to peace, includes Zechariah, the country priest, who was in Jerusalem to fulfill the duties of his ministry, when his role in the rescue mission is made known. And as a result, Zechariah becomes a template for us to be guided into, and help guide others into, the way of peace.
And that is why his story is part of our Advent preparations. Advent reminds us we have been rescued, that we “might serve him without fear.” Advent reminds us we have been rescued from fear, and guided to the place of God’s everlasting peace. And in response we are called to serve, to be guides ourselves to those who live in fear and are in need of the mighty savior’s rescue.
Advent is an opportunity to reassess how we will be guided, and how we will guide others, into the way of peace in the coming year. Often though, our forward-thinking plans, our blueprints for the future and our 12-month goals are person- or family-centric, focused on inward, not outward, spheres of activity and service.
But Zechariah is reminding us that we are a rescued people and that we ought to think about how to honor our Savior, the “rescuer” And what better way to honor someone who has saved our lives than to be guided by Him, and help guide others, without fear, into the way of peace?
Conclusion
It is quite easy for our lives to drift toward an insular pattern that is repetitive and often monotonous. So as a people who are rescued from sin, Satan and death; from meaninglessness and ennui; how about we try to break out of this common and banal rat race, and aim to serve the one who rescued us?
How about we open ourselves in this season to be guided not by Christmas-to-do’s, but by Christmas itself—that because of Jesus’ birth everything changes?
How about we let ourselves be guided—actually guided—into the way of peace that is shown by Zechariah, Elizabeth, John, Mary, and Jesus?
How about we seek to guide others, through our example and maybe through some overt intentional actions, to guide others into the way of peace?
That is, after all, what Advent is about, and what Advent can help us do. And in doing so, we are guided, and others are guided, into the way of peace. And that guidance will result in an inspiring, movie worthy rescue story—that may or may not require any explosions. Amen.
Pastoral Prayer, December 5, 2021, Advent 2
Gracious God, you are the God of all peace. Guide us along your path of peace, and to be your messengers of peace wherever we go.
Holy God, the blessing of Zechariah was a blessing of thanksgiving, and is a perfect story of rescue for Advent because not only is it a prayerful thanksgiving, it is also an inspiring story that reminds us you will never leave us behind.
Even more to the point, it is a message of your Holy Spirit, who was, and is, at work to bring forth your Good News—that no longer do we have to live in fear, no longer do we have to wonder and doubt, no longer do we have endure the finality of death. Instead, we have been given the gift of peace that passes all understanding, through your love that endures forever.
God of new life, we know the preparations then, and the preparations of Advent today, are way more of a spirit-event than we realize. All of it was, and are, moments of your Holy Spirit breaking into the ordinary, mundane world, and bringing with it your preferred and promised future—a future filled with hope, peace, joy, and love.
All of it is your Spirit breaking into reality, and it is what the entirety of the whole Jesus event was about.
It was an event that set into motion a new world order, a new way of seeing, believing, and living—which we now call the way, the truth, and the life.
This way, truth, and life is never forced. It never coerces. It never demands.
This way, truth, and life is always a choice.
Help us, we pray, to make the faithful choice.
Help us to be guided in your ways of peace. Help us guide others to your ways of peace. Help us to be those who reflect your light to the places that would otherwise not know of your peace—a peace that passes all understanding.
Hear now, we ask, the prayers we need to share during this time of Holy Silence.
All this we pray in the name of Christ Jesus, the Prince of Peace, who taught us to pray saying, “Our…