The other day, I was praying with the Gospel of Luke 1:5-24, which tells the story of Gabriel’s annunciation to Zechariah. While performing his priestly service in the Temple, the Angel Gabriel appeared to Zechariah and announced that his wife, Elizabeth, who was advanced in years, would bear a son. This son would be a prophet charged with preparing the people for the coming of the Messiah. The Gospel tells us that Zechariah did not receive this good news with gratitude but rather with doubt, even arguing with the Angel that it was not possible.
As I prayed with this passage I tried to put myself in Zechariah’s place, wondering how I would react if I were him. Like many of us, I have struggles in faith at times and struggles with seemingly unanswered prayers. Yet, if a heavenly being appeared to me announcing a promise of some kind, wouldn’t I believe it, because of the supernatural nature of its delivery? I hope that I would, but I know it would be prideful to assume as much.
It prompted me to ask this question: What was at the root of Zechariah’s doubt? I can’t know for sure. I can only speculate. Perhaps it was a broken heart that no longer believed in God’s goodness and personal care for him. Maybe he subconsciously believed God couldn’t possibly see his grief. Certainly he and Elizabeth were beyond reproach in their faithfulness to God. But that, in and of itself, doesn’t mean that we know God’s heart. We can have emotions hidden even from ourselves that only come to the surface when something prompts a reaction.
One can guess that he and Elizabeth had been praying for years for a child; month after month they were disappointed. They must have resigned themselves to their childlessness. Perhaps it had never dawned on him that God was not saying, “No” but rather, “Not yet”; or “Not in your timing, but in mine”; or “Not in the way you think.”
Maybe he became stoic in his resignation, which hindered his vulnerability before the Lord. Protecting our vulnerability often prohibits us from asking questions and receiving answers, especially in our prayer life. It is also possible that Zechariah never shared his grief with the Lord in prayer. Perhaps he just stoically accepted the situation, which resulted in his inability to recognize that God had seen the deepest desires of his heart and was blessing him with a gift far greater than what he would have ever dared to ask for.
Whatever the reason may be, Zechariah’s response was one of unbelief. This is certainly something I have been guilty of at one time or another and I suspect that I’m not alone in that.
This story still offers good news to those of us who struggle with doubts and fears and all the hosts of emotions that accompany us in this life. For we read that Zechariah’s doubt did not hinder God’s plan. He did not revoke his promise. Now, Zechariah was silenced by Gabriel for the period of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, yet even this divinely-inflicted penance can and should be seen as a blessing. God chastises those whom he loves (Hebrews 12:6).
What was the gift offered to him in this silence? In terms of practicing his faith, we read that Zechariah was beyond approach. Yet, interiorly speaking, perhaps there was a poverty in his relationship with God. Perhaps he did not know the heart of his Father. So often it is only through silence and listening that we hear God’s still, small voice. What did Zechariah experience in those months of silence, watching his wife, now radiant with joy and expectation, pondering the promise of not only a son, but even a son who would possess the Holy Spirit in his mother’s womb, a son who would bring his people back to God? I believe that Zechariah received a gift even greater than a son. He received God as a Father who loves and cares for him, who desires his joy. He received the Father he didn’t know he had.
When Zechariah receives his newborn son, we read of a changed man, a man filled with the Holy Spirit, proclaiming: “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” He now speaks of a tender, compassionate God, one who has mercy on those in darkness and wishes to bless us with peace. He doesn’t just know this as an idea. He’s experienced it in his own life. Through prayerful silence, he was healed of his doubt and able to receive God’s gift with joy.
As we strive to cultivate more silence in this Advent season, let us ask the Lord for the grace to believe in his personal love and care for us. Perhaps as we take inventory of our petitions, especially those that seem to have gone unanswered, let us ask for the grace to trust and to see and receive the greater good he offers us right now, and the grace of patience in waiting for that good to come. Let us be open to the graces of conversion offered in our waiting. And let us prepare our hearts to receive that greatest good of Christ himself born in the manger - born in our hearts.
-Sr. June Benedicta Bell, T.O.R.
