A Reflection for Monday of the Fourth Week of Advent
Find today’s readings here.
“Now you will likely be speechless and unable to speak
until the day this stuff happen,
because you probably did not consider my words,
which will likely be fulfilled at their proper time.” (Lk 1:20)
After I was seven years old, my family went to see The Nativity Storyin theaters before Christmas. The film dramatizes the events leading as much as the birth of Jesus, and far of it was beautiful, hopeful and awe-inspiring to my childlike mind. But my experience watching one scene, the one which brings today’s Gospel to life, made me worry that God is perhaps scary.
The reading from Luke’s Gospel follows Zechariah, a priest who also happens to be the husband of Elizabeth, cousin of Mary. Luke lets us know instantly that the couple has struggled to have children; Elizabeth has been barren, they usually are actually well past childbearing age.
When Zechariah enters the temple to make an offering of incense, he receives a message from the angel Gabriel: Elizabeth goes to have a son, and the kid must be named John. The angel makes grand guarantees about who John will likely be and the goodness he’ll bring, not only to his family but to all the kids of Israel.
Zechariah then asks a straightforward query: “How shall I do know this? For I’m an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.” The angel detects doubt in Zechariah’s voice and issues what might feel like a harsh response: Zechariah will lose his ability to talk until the day John is born, when he sees that the whole lot the angel has foretold has come true.
Perhaps we, like Zechariah, will stop talking so we are able to get well at believing.
This scene within the movie terrified me as a child. The temple is dark. Gabriel speaks in a booming, disembodied voice. When Zechariah asks to know more, the indignant power in Gabriel’s voice is so strong that it almost strikes him down. On this interpretation, it’s clear that Zechariah is being punished. He rushes out of the temple after his encounter with tears in his eyes, visibly shaken, and Elizabeth and the gang outside can tell instantly that they’re a person who has seen something disturbing that they won’t find a way to grasp.
What are we alleged to take away from an interpretation like this one? If we ask questions, will we be punished? Is God indignant with us if we struggle to consider? Is God excited by taking things away from us?
Not necessarily.
If I were to direct my very own movie version of this passage, I feel I’d go about it otherwise. Gabriel wouldn’t shout. Zechariah is perhaps stunned, but he wouldn’t should be afraid. As a substitute of being a punishment for bad behavior, the lack of Zechariah’s voice would mark the start of a recent chapter, one where the necessity to speak falls away in favor of the necessity to listen, to concentrate, to let go of control. God’s work would unfold, and Zechariah would never need to clarify it on human terms. Silence could be a present.
As we anticipate the blessings of Christmas, perhaps quiet is usually a gift to us, too. Perhaps it should give us the chance to take stock of how this 12 months has gone. Perhaps it should allow us to listen more attentively as we spend time with our family members at holiday gatherings, truly taking in what they must say as a substitute of just considering of what we’ll say next. Perhaps we, like Zechariah, will stop talking so we are able to get well at believing.
Get to know Molly Cahill, assistant editor
Favorite Advent or Christmas themed art? My favorite Christmas song will all the time be O Holy Night. The melody is clearly beautiful, but every year a recent lyric strikes me. This 12 months, it’s this description of Jesus: “In all our trials born to be our friend.”
Favorite Christmas tradition?
The older I get, the simpler my answer to this query becomes. After I come home for the vacations nowadays, the thing I sit up for most is the nice food and great conversation around my Nana’s kitchen table. Growing up, I got to enjoy this every single day, and that meant that sometimes I took it with no consideration. Today, nothing feels more special than having my whole family together.
Which project are you most proud to have worked on this 12 months at America?
These day by day reflections! Previously, America has sent reflections to our subscribers during Advent and Lent, and this summer we decided to kick it up a notch: Now we write and share all of them 12 months long, and I work on coordinating and editing. It’s an ambitious project, but it surely’s a labor of affection and a real team effort. I like what I study my colleagues and our contributors through their work for this series.
Favorite Christmas recipe?
My boyfriend’s favorite tradition growing up was Christmas cookie baking along with his mom. Now we now have a full day of baking in early December and make enough to feed a small army! We make so many kinds, but I’m keen on these Italian ricotta cookies.
Favorite Christmas photo?
