How Does a Weary World Rejoice? We Acknowledge Our Weariness, Luke 1:1-23, 12/3/23
How Does a Weary World Rejoice? We Acknowledge Our Weariness
Luke 1:1-23
Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins
December 3, 2023
Since many have undertaken to compile a narrative about the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I, too, decided, as one having a grasp of everything from the start, to write a well-ordered account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may have a firm grasp of the words in which you have been instructed.
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 descended from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. Both of them were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. But they had no children because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years.
Once when he was serving as priest before God during his section’s turn of duty, he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to enter the sanctuary of the Lord to offer incense. Now at the time of the incense offering, the whole assembly of the people was praying outside. Then there appeared to him an angel of the Lord, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was terrified, and fear overwhelmed him. 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. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, 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. He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. 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.” Zechariah said to the angel, “How can I know that this will happen? 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.”
Meanwhile the people were waiting for Zechariah and wondering at his delay in the sanctuary. When he did come out, he was unable to 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. When his time of service was ended, he returned to his home.
______
“O Come, O Come Emmanuel.”
This traditional Advent hymn, including the variations like the beautiful one our choir just gifted to us, was originally a Latin hymn dating back to the 8th or 9th century. Seven days before Christmas, monasteries would begin singing this in anticipation of the arrival of the Christ Child.
But here’s something you may not know about this ancient, 1,200-year-old song—in its original Latin form, it contains a riddle. The Latin form contains seven verses or antiphons, including the Latin versions of “Come, thou wisdom,” and “Come, thou dayspring.” The monks would add a verse each evening. “The first letter of the second word of each antiphon spells SARCORE. If read backwards, the letters form a two-word acrostic, ‘Ero cras,’ meaning ‘I will be tomorrow.’”[1] The word, “Emmanuel,” would be added on the night before Christmas Eve, completing the riddle.
I love that this ancient hymn has a secret—a hidden truth—an esoteric meaning available only to those who seek a deeper truth and wisdom . . .
People like . . . us.
This hymn is different than most of the Christmas tunes we hear this time of year—cheery songs of happiness and joy, like “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” and “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas.”
“O Come, O Come Emmanuel” is written in a minor key—its somber notes and unresolved lines create a sense of lingering tension, as if the music is grappling with an emotional dilemma. It taps into the ubiquitous human experience of lament, of sorrow, of introspection, and unfulfilled desires. And despite its beckoning us to “Rejoice,” that minor key never resolves; it never completely goes away.
The bittersweet beauty of this ancient song holds, simultaneously:
· Mystery AND meaning
· Hope AND lament
· Joy AND weariness
Over the next few weeks, we’re going to explore the intersection of joy and weariness as we open up the Gospel of Luke and ponder together the question, “How Does a Weary World Rejoice?”
With that, today we read together the opening lines of Luke’s gospel. We learn in the first few verses that this is a letter written to “Theophilus.” Who is this “Theophilus?”
· It might be a high ranking official, given that Luke adds “most excellent” before the name.
· It could be a wealthy patron, perhaps someone paying Luke to write this account.
· Or, my favorite theory, it could be symbolic. Let’s use our etymology skills and break down the name “Theophilus,” shall we? “Theo” (like in “theology) means “God.” “Philus” (as in “Philadelphia”) means “love.” Put them together and we get “God-lover.” Perhaps Luke is writing this to all “God-lovers” throughout time, perhaps even to you and me!
With this theory, it’s almost as if Luke is saying, “Hey, if you love God, you’ve gotta hear this story!”
And then the story begins. It doesn’t begin with the happy birth of Jesus, like we might expect. The story begins in obscurity, with a nobody Hebrew priest named Zechariah and his wife, Elizabeth.
The story also begins in weariness. According to verses 6-7:
Both of them were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. But they had no children because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years.
I have a real problem with how verse 7 is translated here. The most common word in the entire Greek New Testament is a little word, “καὶ.” It’s used over 9,000 times. It’s the word throughout scripture we translate as “and.” It can also be translated as “even,” “also,” and “namely.” You want to know how this word should NOT be translated? “But!” So the better correct way to translate this verse would be:
Both of them were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. AND they had no children because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years.
Not they “were righteous . . . BUT they had no children.”
They “were righteous . . . AND they had no children.”
Why does this poor translation stick in my craw so much? Translating the word “καὶ” as “but” here suggests that infertility is the result of ungodliness or sinfulness. This is the inference:
They “were righteous . . . (so normally they’d be fertile) . . . BUT they had no children.”
With “AND,” it’s so much better . . .
They “were righteous . . . AND they had no children.” These two things can simultaneously be true.
The story of Zechariah and Elizabeth holds this joy and weariness in the form of:
· Righteousness AND infertility
It’s not either/or . . . it’s both/and. This positive experience (righteousness) and this negative experience (infertility) . . . they come as a package deal.
Many of us attempt to close ourselves off to the negative experiences and emotions of life. But any good therapist will tell you that if you try to close yourself off to negative emotions, like sadness or grief or lament, you’ll close yourself off to the positive emotions as well, like joy. It’s like a kink in a water hose. If “you stop the flow of sadness, you stop the flow of happiness at the same time.”[2]
So, “How Does a Weary World Rejoice?” It starts by acknowledging our weariness.
Acknowledgment is step number 1 in Alcoholics Anonymous 12-Step program, and really the first step of any journey toward recovery, whether addiction, adversity, or most any kind of personal challenge. Acknowledgement means that we take an honest look at ourselves and the world around us and admit that there’s a problem. It requires courage and humility to take this first step AND it sets the stage for growth, resilience, and the pursuit of positive change.
It’s kind of ironic, right? Naming that there’s a problem is the first step in solving the problem?
Back to Zechariah and Elizabeth.
Zechariah (remember: righteous AND childless) is doing his routine, priestly duty at the Temple. It’s at the time when, Luke tells us, Herod was king of Judea. That there was a foreign king reigning over Judea would be enough to make for a “weary world” for Zechariah and other Jews. Add to that that Herod was known as a deeply tyrannical, violent, and even cruel leader. The history books tell us he would kill his own son. The Bible tells us he would slaughter the infant boys of the Hebrews. There was a ubiquitous weariness to Zechariah’s world.
And in the midst of that weariness, he went on with his life. So we find him performing his priestly duty at the Temple.
That’s what we do, don’t we? In the midst of a weary world, with one upsetting news cycle after another—things that absolutely break our hearts—we get on with our lives. We perform our duties.
For Zechariah, bearing the shame of being childless in a society that saw him as cursed, being a victim of the King Herod’s reign . . . Zechariah is no stranger to the idea of a “weary world.”
So as Zechariah is going about his mundane duty in the midst of his weariness, God breaks through the mendacity and shows him something extraordinary: an angel bearing fantastic news:
Your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord.
This news is so fantastic to Zechariah that it’s hard to believe. So he doesn’t. Because of his unbelief, the angel strikes him mute, which given our 2,000 year perspective, is kind of funny. Funny to me, perhaps not so much to Zechariah.
· Zechariah is simultaneously overwhelmed with joy AND struck with aphasia.
· Zechariah has some amazing news to share AND he can’t tell anyone about it.
(There’s that AND word again.)
Doesn’t that sound just like life? The good AND the bad?
It reminds me of the theme song from a TV show I used to watch when I was a kid:
You take the good, you take the bad,
You take them both and there you have
The facts of life, the facts of life.
Here’s the thing: hardship and suffering is a “fact of life.” Let’s name it—let’s acknowledge that truth. Suffering is a “fact of life.”
AND.
Joy can be found in the midst of this cold, harsh truth.
It’s not either/or. Most of us would choose joy and forego the suffering. It’s not either/or. It’s both/and. It’s singing “Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel has come to us, O Israel” AND singing it in a minor key. It’s having fantastic news AND not being able to speak a word. It’s suffering AND joy.
And, as we begin this season of Advent, it’s waiting AND hope. Beautiful AND bittersweet.
How does a weary world rejoice? Step one: we acknowledge our weariness AND hold out hope that weariness does not have the final say.
What makes you weary this Advent? Is it the war between Israel and Hamas? Between Ukraine and Russia? Is it the rancid politics? Is it some having too much while others have too little? Or perhaps it’s more personal. Your weariness may have a name like sickness, anxiety, loneliness . . . What’s making you weary this Advent? The prompt on our Advent calendar invites us to write down all the things making us weary on a piece of paper, then ripping that paper into tiny pieces as a way to release it all to God. I encourage you to do this some time today.
Naming your source of weariness is a steppingstone on the way to joy. But know this: whatever it is making you weary this Advent season—it does not have the final say!
The Psalmist reminds us (Psalm 30:5b):
Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.
That is why we light the Advent candle of hope—we know that it’s in the darkest of nights that the light of Christ’s hope shines most brightly.
I close with a poem by Rev. Sarah Speed entitled “Wade In”:
Over time
wind and water
will sand down the edges of a stone. For humans,
our wind and water
is the grief of the world.
Stay here long enough
and pieces of you
will be pressed upon
by life’s never-ending stream.
It’s enough to make you weary. It’s enough to make you question. It’s enough to make you quiet. And yet, the stream continues.
So do not be afraid to stand in that water.
Wade in. Soak the hem of your jeans.
Drip wet footprints through every room in your house. Let the water stains tell your story.
And when your body grows weary of swimming,
name the stream.
Acknowledge your weariness.
For eventually,
you will pick flowers from
the opposite bank.
And over and over again, we’ll tell this story.
And over and over again,
a weary world will rejoice.
[1] C. Michael Hawn, “History of Hymns: O Come, O Come Emmanuel”, https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/history-of-hymns-o-come-o-come-emmanuel (accessed 12/2/2023)
[2] Andrea Gibson, “The Bravest Conversation We’ve Had: Andrea Gibson.” Episode 215. We Can Do Hard Things with Glennon Doyle. Podcast hosted by Glennon Doyle, Abby Wambach, and Amanda Doyle. June 1, 2023. momastery.com/blog/ we-can-do-hard-things-ep-215/ (accessed 12/2/2023)