I have to run to Tennessee next week. No specific crisis, just the general ones. The on-going ones that come with caring for parents long distance. Mom’s dementia progresses and now she has some severe arthritis that causes her pain with every movement and we are unable to explain or relieve that pain in a way that makes sense to her. And dad who loves her in his way thinks he can give better care than the professionals we have chosen to place her with and he threatens to take her home and care for himself. And we keep trying to talk him down from that cliff edge. I just need to be there. And I’m not quite sure why.
Someone asked me when I said I was going “What do you hope to accomplish?” That stumped me. So much so that I almost decided not to go. There is nothing to accomplish. There is nothing I can do to change the situation, it is what it is. There is nothing I can do to change minds, mom’s is in some ways lost to us and to her and has become a new thing we are still trying to understand. And dad’s ... well ... dad’s mind gives mules a bad name. It is intractable like the proverbial donkey, unassailable like a high wall of certainty without cracks or handholds, impenetrable like ... well like the coffee table leg you stub your toe on in the middle of the night because you didn’t bother to turn on a light in order to properly navigate the room because the dog won’t shut up. Yeah, like that. So, nothing is the answer.
I’m going to accomplish nothing. Because there is nothing to accomplish. Just things to manage, or observe. It is a maintenance visit. A going through the motions, doing one’s duty, making an appearance and performing the rituals with a crushing lack of expectation but an overwhelming sense of responsibility. Just do it.
Right Zechariah? That about sum it up? Have I got the picture, grasped the mindset? Am I there with you in the Holy of Holies? How one can pass through that curtain with a sig of resignation instead of a gasp of wonder not to mention the requisite fear and trembling, I just don’t know. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s remind ourselves of Zechariah’s story, shall we?
Luke 1:5-23 In the days of King Herod of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly order of Abijah. His wife was a descendant of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. 6 Both of them were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. 7 But they had no children, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years. 8 Once when he was serving as priest before God and his section was on duty, 9 he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to enter the sanctuary of the Lord and offer incense. 10 Now at the time of the incense offering, the whole assembly of the people was praying outside. 11 Then there appeared to him an angel of the Lord, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. 12 When Zechariah saw him, he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him. 13 But the angel said to him, "Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. 14 You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, 15 for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. 16 He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. 17 With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord." 18 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." 19 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. 20 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." 21 Meanwhile the people were waiting for Zechariah, and wondered at his delay in the sanctuary. 22 When he did come out, he could not speak to them, and they realized that he had seen a vision in the sanctuary. He kept motioning to them and remained unable to speak. 23 When his time of service was ended, he went to his home.
Sorry, long story. And we aren’t done yet. But that’s enough for now. Zechariah found what he forgot he was looking for and almost killed him. That’s the summation of this story. I know I’m reading into the story, but when Luke tells us Zechariah entered the sanctuary while the people waited outside, there is no emotion until he sees what he didn’t expect to see. That angelic appearance terrified him, overwhelmed him. Not being in the Presence of the almighty God. It was old hat, it was routine, until it wasn’t. And he almost fell over. Poor Zechariah, a preacher who saw someone’s life being changed because of a word spoken, a pastor who watched salvation happen in a soul thought lost for sure, a chaplain visiting a patient not long for the world who proceeds to get up and walk out of the hospital on two strong legs. It just doesn’t happen. You don’t go into the Holy of Holies expecting to encounter God do you?
Well, you should. We should. We should ease our way into the sanctuary as though we were passing through rows of highly volatile explosives, we should bow our heads as though we had a little inkling of the power we were invoking, a little trepidation that the soul we bring tucked away in the confidence of our beings just might get flash fried by the transforming power of the Spirit. We might walk out of worship limping because the wrestling match with God put our hip, our self-image, our same old same old approach to faith out of joint. This just might be the time when you are struck blind by the blazing appearing of the Risen Christ and knocked off your horse and sent on a mission to the gentiles in foreign lands, or the next cubicle, or next door. Or this might be the day your prayer is answered.
Yeah, that prayer. The one you stopped praying years ago because it hurt so much. The one you’ve become convinced could never be, will never be. The one you don’t even know how to pray anymore. And have pushed so far into the back of your mind that it is like it isn’t there anymore. That prayer, answered by an angel standing next to the altar of God.
You wouldn’t do any better than Zechariah. Forget it, he snapped, at an archangel no less. Ain’t gonna happen. I’m too old, she’s too broken down, we don’t have the energy or the wherewithal or the equipment to handle a baby. Forget it, Gabe, can I call you Gabe? Where were you twenty years ago, forty years ago, for God’s sake - excuse my French. We needed it then, we needed an end to the disparaging looks - a priest of God who cannot even produce a child, what good is he. She needed an end to the ache she carried every day of her life. But now we;ve learned to live with it. Forget it, it ain’t gonna happen.
Shut up preacher. Admit it, you’ve wanted to say that a time or two. Shut up, because you didn’t know how to receive a gift when it came. Because you didn’t know how to claim the faith when it fell into your lap. Because you gave up waiting on God because the waiting seemed too long to you, but was just right for the purposes of God. Then you can just shut up. Believe me there is no worse punishment for a preacher than to have to shut up, and for nine months no less.
The angel said, your prayer has been heard. I wonder when the last time he prayed that prayer was. He was an old man, surely he stopped the prayer when it no longer made any human sense to keep praying it. Maybe he forgot the hole in his heart and was trying his best to learn to live with it. Maybe the brave face he put on became the only face he knew and he forgot his prayer. A prayer for a son, which in those days was a prayer for eternity. Eternal life was lived through offspring. No children, no continuation, no life that goes on. But Zechariah forgot his prayer.
But God answers forgotten prayers. Maybe not when we want them. Maybe not in the way we would prefer them. But God answers forgotten prayers. Just ask Zechariah.
I don’t know what I’m going to accomplish. I don’t know what to pray for as I drive the eight hour trip to Paris Tennessee. I’ve forgotten how to pray in this situation. But I’m going. And maybe there’ll be an angel at the end of the journey.
Shalom,
Derek
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