5 In the time of Herod king of Judea there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly division of Abijah; his wife Elizabeth was also a descendant of Aaron. 6 Both of them were righteous in the sight of God, observing all the Lord’s commands and decrees blamelessly. 7 But they were childless because Elizabeth was not able to conceive, and they were both very old. 8 Once when Zechariah’s division was on duty and he was serving as priest before God, 9 he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to go into the temple of the Lord and burn incense. 10 And when the time for the burning of incense came, all the assembled worshipers were praying outside.

11 Then an angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. 12 When Zechariah saw him, he was startled and was gripped with fear. 13 But the angel said to him: “Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to call him John.

Luke 1:5-13

I have a strong drive to answer questions. I was that nerdy, annoying kid in grade school who knew all my multiplication tables, the periodic table, state capitals, and how many home runs Babe Ruth hit in 1927. I liked being the "answers guy" and applied this trait to my faith. I memorized important scriptures, took Greek in college, and loved theological debate. If someone had a faith question, I wanted the answer.

Ministry soon taught me that many answers are hard to come by. While I sat and prayed with people in hospital rooms, people wanted answers that doctors could not give. Why had suffering and death entered their lives? Where was God in tragedy and injustice? I've participated in funerals after suicides, for children, and two mass murders have touched my ministry. I can give you the theological answer of what Reinhold Niebuhr or Jurgen Moltmann says about suffering and evil. But those answers don't solve the anguish of a woman with two small children whose husband dies suddenly from a brain tumor. I value the life of the mind, but matters of faith get worked out in the heart and soul as we struggle to understand. Why did this happen? Where is God?

The priests of Jerusalem in Jesus' day struggled to find a certain faith in an arbitrary and unjust world. They embraced a faith in a strong law code and a grand Temple in Jerusalem. The scripture from Luke today tells the story of a priest named Zachariah, who faithfully served the answers of the day but who was astonished when an angel arrived with a message.

Luke shares three relevant details about Zachariah and his wife, Elizabeth. First, both are descendants of priestly families going back to Moses' brother Aaron more than 1000 years ago. They have been in the God business for generations, so they know all the conventional answers. Second, Luke says they are righteous in the sight of God and observe all the commands and decrees blamelessly. That's probably a compliment, but it also says they were rule-followers. Luke doesn't say they fed the hungry and visited the sick (Jesus’ measure of faith) but they were great at commands and decrees. But I'm going to give them credit because Luke is generally negative on the Temple; Jesus turns over the money changer's tables and condemns priests as broods of vipers right and left. So, Zechariah is a righteous guy in a corrupt system.

The third characteristic is crucial. Zachariah and Elizabeth have no children. They are pretty old, probably mid-30s, and there were no IVF options. The couple likely carried some pain around infertility. The social stigma was strong. If children are believed to be a blessing from God, then what does no children mean? What did the relatives say about the family line of priests lasting a thousand years being broken? Did they do something wrong? Luke is clear that they are righteous in every way, but despite living up to all the answers perfectly, the family they hoped for is not happening.

Zachariah gets some good news: He has been chosen by lottery to light the incense in the inner temple for the 9:00 AM Mass. This chance may not sound like a big deal to you to perform a ritual in church, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. The odds of getting selected for this holy duty were roughly 1 in 600, and most priests never got the opportunity.

The privilege of leading the ritual for a special event can be moving. I officiated at an AIDS Remembrance Day service in the 1990s, and a woman asked me what she could do to help. I told her I needed someone to light the candles. Her eyes went so wide I thought I had insulted her, but she did it. Afterward, she told me through tears that, as a lesbian, she had always felt judged and excluded from church. Lighting the candle was the first time she felt God might love her.

We don't know how Zachariah felt about being randomly selected, but perhaps it felt like God's blessing in the face of disappointment. We need to get inside the worldview to understand the experience. During major religious festivals, people gather in the Temple courtyards twice a day to say prayers at 9 AM and 3 PM. The selected priest would light the incense to begin the prayers. The incense was meant to convey prayers floating up to God. A specific formula of rare elements was combined in the incense, considered pleasing to God. After ritual purification baths, Zachariah entered the holy sanctuary alone. On one side of the altar were twelve loaves of bread, one for each tribe of Israel, symbolizing God as the provider of the people. On the other side was a Golden Minora, the perpetual flame that had always to be lit. The priests' job was to attend to all these holy objects and rituals. Few entered this space next to the holy of holies where God dwelled and only the chief priest could enter.

The key to understanding these archaic rituals is that people believed God dwelled right there in the Temple. The house of God was not a metaphor. God lived there. If someone asked where God was in Jesus' day, God is hanging out at the Temple, beyond all the burning candles and smoldering incense. If you wanted answers, you tried to get as close as possible to where God was. We don't know how God felt about all this. It is too close to “I Dream of Genie,” keeping a genie in the bottle for my beliefs.

When an angel, later identified as Gabriel, shows up, Zachariah reacts with fear. It fascinates me that after all that trouble of baths, special incense, drawing responsibilities by lottery, all to invoke God's presence, that a priest is startled when an angel shows up. Why do we spend time filling communion cups with the proper grade of Welches juice, getting the trays just right, the colors on the table, remembering what to say as we share the bread and cup, if not to make God's presence real? Yet we would be startled if Christ sat among us and spoke. We can get so focused on the ritual we are startled by the presence.

Gabriel's news is tremendous. Not only will Zack and Liz finally have a child together, but this child will be like the great prophet Elijah and prepare the way for the Messiah. If your family has been priest for a millennium, that is as good as the news can get. Imagine how proud they were when asked what their son did for a living. "Oh, he is in the State Department, he is the front man for the Savior of the world."

With all the good news, I hate to be a downer, but we know the rest of the story. John ends up in Herod's dungeon, and is beheaded for doing his job of being a great prophet. Just because God answers prayers doesn't mean our problems are over and we will live happily ever after. Sometimes an answer to prayer challenges us to make a shift in perspective or to take action that calls for courage and effort. I believe the Holy Spirit always moves in us with love, and beckons us to what we truly need. But answering with love often stretches us to change and grow.

For example, if you asked, was I called by God to be a minister, I answer “yes.” But the sense of calling has evolved through many twists and turns. I was out of the ministry for five years after a divorce, and had planned a new calling for myself. I was working with homeless people and completed a psychology degree, and planned to be a mental health counselor. I had become a Quaker, a meditator, and felt like I was on an authentic spiritual path.

Then one day I heard a quiet whisper that I would preach again. I dismissed it because it made little sense after so much effort to rebuild my life, get a masters degree, and I felt strong in my faith. Besides, my brain whispers all kinds of ridiculous things. I have great sympathy with Zachariah, for it was hard for me to believe the whisper I heard.

A few months later I received a phone call asking me to preach for this small Lutheran Church who had fired their pastor. They asked if I would preach for three weeks. Three weeks was extended to three months, and finally to three years of a part time preaching gig. All that time I was wrestling and discerning how my life would work with that whisper. My life did not change with one big bang. After a whisper in the middle of the night, my soul took time to rearrange around what I experienced. It took time for things to unfold, and ongoing patient discernment.

In the quiet whispers of our lives, God still speaks, inviting us to trust, to grow, and to act in faith. May you have the patience to let the God’s Spirit lead you where we truly need to be, and the grace and courage to take the steps you need.