Thursday in the Fourth Week of Advent, December 23, 2021

The recent announcement from Rome regarding the restriction of the celebration of the Sacraments according to the 1962 liturgical books has saddened very many faithful Catholics, including priests.  It strikes me as an act of bullying.  It is also not well thought out.  There are contradictions within it.  I do not think restrictions on the traditional Mass and Sacraments will last long and will be rescinded during the next papacy.  Let us pray for the will of God to be done in his Church.

Luke 1:57-66

When the time arrived for Elizabeth to have her child she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy toward her, and they rejoiced with her. When they came on the eighth day to circumcise the child, they were going to call him Zechariah after his father, but his mother said in reply, “No. He will be called John.” But they answered her, “There is no one among your relatives who has this name.” So they made signs, asking his father what he wished him to be called. He asked for a tablet and wrote, “John is his name,” and all were amazed. Immediately his mouth was opened, his tongue freed, and he spoke blessing God. Then fear came upon all their neighbors, and all these matters were discussed throughout the hill country of Judea. All who heard these things took them to heart, saying, “What, then, will this child be? For surely the hand of the Lord was with him.”

For nine months, the wife of the priest had kept herself hidden in her house.  No news of her came to her family and neighbors.  The servants had nothing to say and her husband could not speak.  He had returned from his priestly duties in Jerusalem as a deaf mute, some said as a result of a vision he had.  But what sort of vision takes speech away?  Soon after his return, his wife had gone into hiding from the world.  Apparently she was not ill, for no parade of physicians lined its way to her door, but no one could say for certain.  No one, not even family, was admitted into the house.  Then, one day, six months after Elizabeth had disappeared, her young relative, Mary, had arrived, and she was welcomed into the house.  Curious neighbors had heard talking inside for the first time in half a year.  Elizabeth’s own voice could be heard through the wall, but no one could tell what it was saying.  Mary from Nazareth stayed three months and then suddenly departed.  She had told no one what was happening on the occasions when she came out of the house, simply remarking that all was well.  And then, soon after Mary left, a servant hurried out of the house and ran to fetch the town’s midwife.  The news of this spread quickly through the little town of perhaps a thousand souls and a number of family and neighbors gathered outside the door.  The cries of a woman in labor were plain to hear.  But whose were they?  The midwife was ushered into the house while the crowd was kept outside.  And not long afterwards the midwife reappeared.  The crowd, formerly boisterous with wonder and expectation, quieted.  And then the midwife announced that Elizabeth had given birth to a son.  The people glorified the God of heaven for this miracle and they rejoiced for the sake of the formerly barren couple.  

For centuries no miracles had occurred, no prophets had arisen.  Although the people prayed and waited for God to show his favor to his people, it seemed as though he had hidden himself from them.  Elizabeth’s miraculous pregnancy — not only was she barren but she had long passed the years when women became pregnant — came as soft rain after a bitter drought.  This event, wonderful in itself, was also a sign, and this child was also a sign, of God’s love and care, and perhaps of something more.

On the eighth day after the child’s birth, the family was let into the house to see the him and to witness his circumcision, which would mark his belonging to the children of Abraham.  But when the members of their family heard his mother declare that she was naming him John, a name not before used in the family, they objected.  They insisted that the child be named Zechariah after his father.  Elizabeth held her ground, though, and Zachariah himself, standing beside his wife but nearly forgotten because of his inability to hear and talk, put his arms in the air.  The gesture quieted the noisy group.  The old priest then made another gesture, asking for something to write on.  He was handed the wax tablet he had been using over these nine months to make his needs known.  With his stylus, he etched out a statement.  As he wrote, the gathered people exchanged glances and whispers, unable to imagine what He was writing.  When he was done, he held up the tablet for all to see.  It read, “John is his name.”  The effect was stunning.  Because Zechariah was deaf as well as mute, he could not have understood the controversy over the child’s name, and yet, God had granted him this ability so he could confirmed the name.  What followed further stunned the people there: “Immediately his mouth was opened, his tongue freed, and he spoke blessing God.”  Wonder now followed wonder.  While all of this was a cause for rejoicing and feasting, the people knew that God was giving them a message through it, and awe overcame them: “Then fear came upon all their neighbors, and all these matters were discussed throughout the hill country of Judea.”  Just as times of drought or disease causes a person to withdraw inwardly and to seek meaning for it, as though knowing what it meant could make the condition more bearable, so does its sudden relief.  Why?  What does it mean?  “All who heard these things took them to heart, saying, ‘What, then, will this child be? For surely the hand of the Lord was with him.’ ”  

It is good, even necessary, for us as humans to wonder.  As Christians, it is good for us to wonder, to ponder the meanings of what we see and hear, to look for the hand of God in the world.  There may come times when he seems not to be present.  This apparent absence teaches us to long for him and it strengthens our perseverance.  But at the times he seems to be far away, he is closest to us.  If we wait with patience, we will become worthy of seeing his marvelous works.