A STORY OF HOPE

Zechariah was a priest at the time of the birth of Jesus. His name carried the “ah” sound, so it connected with the word Yahweh, meaning the Lord. The whole name meant “The Lord is renowned.” He was named for the famous prophet Zechariah, the one who prophesied about the Messiah who would enter Jerusalem humbly on a donkey. That prophesy was given 500 years before, but everybody knew about it and liked the idea. Zechariah was a good man with a good name living a good life.

He was married to Elizabeth. The “el” in her name was a word meaning “god” and the “beth” at the end meant “house.” So something like “God’s house.”

Zechariah and Elizabeth were childless. We are not sure how long they had been married, but long enough for folks to notice that there were no babies. Their story was not unlike other childless couples in the history of God’s people: Abraham and Sarah, who became the parents of Isaac, Elkanah and Hannah, who became the parents of Samuel. So after producing a patriarch and a prophet/judge, what should we expect when we hear another story about a childless couple?

Zechariah was just going about his business. He was heaving the heave offering and waving the wave offering, and doing all those things that the priests do…when an angel shows up there by the altar. And for Zechariah that was very troubling.

We pray for God to be present, but we don’t actually expect God to show up! Or send a sign and actually see a sign. Or send a message and actually see the messenger. Angels are troubling.

You can use your imagination if you want to. We are not told that angels have wings with perfectly placed feathers. We are not told that they speak in flowing Elizabethan English. We are not told that they are nice. You may recall a line in a film where John Travolta plays an angel, but he is scruffy and sometimes crude and when people reprimand him he has to say again and again: “I’m not that kind of angel.” But you can use your imagination.

So Zechariah got good news: you and Elizabeth will have a child, but he got if from an uncomfortable source. You will remember that Zechariah was “troubled” by his angel. So was Joseph. So was Mary. So were the shepherds. So were the women and then the disciples later on at the empty tomb. Their angels all had to say: “Don’t be afraid.” Angels in the Bible are troubling beings. The Bible never gives you: “Oh, goody, I saw an angel.” And because Zechariah couldn’t quite believe that he would have a child, he was struck silent until he baby arrived. Silent. Mouthing words but nothing came out.

God doesn’t give us hope when things are smooth. God doesn’t give us hope when we already have hope. God gives us hope when we have lost hope. God didn’t tell Moses to stretch out his rod until the Red Sea was in front and the chariots of the most powerful king in the world were in the rear. Then the sea divided. God didn’t tell Gideon to take on the Midianites when he had 32,000 men. God waited until he had 300. God didn’t tell Israel that it would be the light to the nations during the height of power of King Solomon. God said that through the prophet Isaiah when the people were in chains hundreds of miles from home with their nation in ashes. Then they were given the message of hope.

God doesn’t give us hope when we already have hope. God gives us hope when our only hope is God.

In ancient times perhaps more than today, children were the family’s hope. If nothing else, they were the social security that took care of you in your old age. But more than that, children were a way of participating in the future.

Zechariah and Elizabeth had lost their hope in having what they desperately wanted. They were settling in for the duration. Now the angel shows up with the hope.

This season raises the question: for what are you hoping? Have you hoped for something great enough, preposterous enough, impossible enough, that you have given up hope? Don’t expect an angel while you are still relying on your own strength.

The rule with investment opportunities is that, when it sounds too good to be true, it’s too good to be true. When God shows up offering hope when there is no hope, when it sounds too good to be true, then it’s true.

I’ve about given up hope on mainline Protestantism in America. We’re squabbling about who to exclude instead of who to include. We’re trying to keep our place at the table instead of getting up and finding new people to bring to the table. While we are worrying about who won’t like us, we’re clueless to the fact that most people just ignore us.

Now we’re going to be alright in this congregation because we’re starting to get that stuff right. But out there? I’ve been around the churches in New England. It’s not pretty.

We in mainline Protestantism are pretty much like Zechariah and Elizabeth. We’ve given up hope of offspring. We just want our social security. We want to be baby boomers living with health to an outrageous old age. There was a time when congregations competed with each other to start new congregations. They gave away members to start something in the next town. And money. They mothered other congregations.

There is an independent congregation in Boston that started in a living room in 1965. The next year it rented a store front. The next year it bought a closed church. The next year it sent 10 members to start a church in another neighborhood. And the next year another. While the daughter church sent 10 members to start a church. Their goal was not to be big. Their goal was to have a family. Today there are nearly 200 congregations, on at least three continents, started by this one church. It is a part of the life blood of each one that they serve the poor and stand beside the weak.

About the only way that we can spread what we’ve found together is if we decide to start a new church. Us. You and me. United Church. Multiple affiliations right from the start. But we couldn’t afford that. We couldn’t contemplate that! Trying to be a mother church and birth a new congregation would drive us to despair.

Precisely. Then we’d be like Abraham and Sarah. Then we’d be like Elkanah and Hannah. Then we’d be like Zechariah and Elizabeth.

I keep wondering what my role is in this place, showing up precisely after the 50 year anniversary. What vision for the future is great enough for this great people? What is demanding enough? What is impossible enough? What message from God would leave us, like Zechariah, dumbstruck? What would so drive us to despair that we would have to hope in God and God alone?

I don’t know. I’m not an angel. But I keep looking for one…..