Text: Luke 1:5-25
Speaker: Mark Rupp

Welcome to the season of Advent. This Sunday marks the beginning, or more aptly, the return to the beginning of a cycle that moves through expectation, arrival, growth and learning, loss and gain, death and resurrection, and the new life we find all along the way. The name Advent comes from the Latin, adventus meaning arrival. It is a season of anticipation and waiting, of watching and preparing. 

And this year we have chosen the theme “Visitations” as a container for these four Sundays leading up to Christmas day. Throughout these weeks, we will be hearing stories of different visitations from Luke’s gospel. Meetings between human and divine, encounters between people both familiar and strange, songs and visions of how we are called to greet the world around us. Advent prepares us for Christmas, a day we celebrate God visiting us in a new way through the baby Jesus, but the many other encounters we have along the way are also opportunities for Divine visitations. In the office this week, we were discussing the theme and someone shared that for them “visitations” brought to mind the practice of offering condolences before a funeral or memorial service. And for someone else, they said “visitations” brought to mind the idea of otherworldly, perhaps strange, visions. 

Visitations come in all shapes and sizes: welcome and unwelcome, comforting and discomforting, surprising and mundane, reorienting and disruptive; some brimming with hope and joy while others filled with sorrow and pain. In all of these, the enduring question for us is where and how we find the presence of God, even in those encounters that feel removed from the sacred, when God feels hidden or when the blessings of the dark have yet to reveal themselves. 

So what comes to mind when you hear the word “Visitations?” What images, feelings, thoughts, stories come to mind? Where do those live in your body? 

To help you reflect on this, I want to do a short exercise. I invite you to close your eyes (if that is comfortable for you) and in a moment I’m going to make a noise. I want you to pay attention to where your mind goes when you hear it, or what reactions you feel in your body. 

[Pause. After a few moments, play doorbell noise from phone.]

You can open your eyes. What came up for you? What instinct did your body move toward? Where did your mind go?

There is an internet trend floating around where people make funny videos showing how different generations react to different things, and one of the ones I saw recently was about reacting to the sound of the doorbell. There were actually a couple different videos I found, but they had very similar takes on the generational divides. 

For the baby boomers, the reaction was one of surprise but instantly jumping up to answer. For the GenXers, the immediate reaction was to check the doorbell camera from their phone to see if it was worth getting up. For Millenials, the sound of the doorbell caused an immediate need to slowly melt into the couch, making sure they couldn’t be seen and wouldn’t be forced to actually answer. The GenZ reaction was to not react at all but continue scrolling on their phone as if nothing happened. In one of the videos the GenZ person muttered under their breath “That’s not for me” while continuing to scroll. 

Internet trends can be quite dumb, and this is no exception, but also, I hate how much I resonated with the Millennial reaction. Apparently the reaction to that sound lives in my body as a vague sense of dread or fear that my personal space is about to be invaded, mixed with a sense of obligation that I should be responding. You can let me know afterward if you also saw yourself anywhere in these examples. 

But these depictions of the different reactions each sort of assume that the visitations at the front door are unexpected, that the person or people showing up is a surprise. And honestly, the humor of the videos is largely about the reality that few people show up at our homes uninvited anymore. Older generations were much more accustomed to surprise visits or stop-bys, whereas younger generations are probably more likely to shoot off a quick text to see if someone is home first, that is if they’re not already sharing their location and tracking their friends like little Digipets. 

I imagine the reactions would be very different–regardless of the generational divide–if the doorbell visitations were not a surprise, or if the context was one in which someone showing up should be expected. 

And this is partly what so struck me about the story of God’s messenger showing up to Zechariah. For a little more context, Zechariah was part of a priestly order of which there were 24, which means he probably only served the temple in this way maybe twice a year. And according to the commentaries I read this week, there were enough of these priests that being chosen by lot for the special privilege of entering the sanctuary to burn incense would have been quite the rare experience. This was likely Zechariah’s only time being chosen for this special opportunity. 

So I have to imagine Zechariah’s awareness of the specialness of this moment had to have been heightened. He was being offered the opportunity to enter into the space marked off as being so holy and sacred that only the special few were allowed in, where God’s presence was uniquely known to dwell. The text says that “at the time of the incense offering, the whole assembly of the people was praying outside,” which if this were a movie I can picture the background music dramatically swelling and mingling with the prayers of those gathered outside while Zechariah makes his way into the sanctuary.

And YET, in the swelling of this climactic moment, in the space where God’s presence is uniquely thought to dwell, Zechariah is still terrified and overwhelmed when a messenger from God appears. He is in God’s house and is surprised when God shows up. 

Now, being overwhelmed by fear when this happens is a standard response within the scriptural stories. Despite what our modern society has told us about angels, wherever they are described in the Bible, they sound absolutely terrifying, full of eyes and wings and spinning wheels, and radiant light. Unsurprisingly, they almost always begin their message with “Be not afraid.” 

So perhaps it is unsurprising that Zechariah is overwhelmed. But what is surprising to me is that despite being in this most sacred of spaces, confronted with a messenger of the Divine, Zechariah still manages to doubt that the angel got the message right. After Gabriel gets finished delivering the grand promise of a son for Zechariah and Elizabeth, a son who will go on to be a prophet of God and prepare the way for God, Zechariah’s only response is, “How can I know that this will happen? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years.” 

It sounds a lot like, “Are you suuuuuuure?” It’s Zechariah checking the Ring camera to see if the doorbell really is for him, hoping he can ignore it and go back to his duties lighting the incense. What’s more, after the angel tells him not to be afraid, Gabriel says “your prayer has been heard,” perhaps insinuating that Zechariah has been praying for a son, possibly for many years. Even though there are plenty of scriptural precedents to the contrary, to remain childless was seen as a disgrace, one which only God could fix. The text paints Zechariah and Elizabeth as a pair who are the very model of Jewish piety, righteous and blameless, both descendents of the priestly lines. They are doing all the right things. So it is not surprising that they would have been praying for this supposed disgrace to be removed. 

Which begs the question, are we really prepared for the things we pray for? And if they don’t come right away, are we preparing for them anyway?

Because of his disbelief and doubt, Gabriel makes it so that Zechariah is unable to speak until the promises that have been declared come to pass. It’s a kind of Divine time-out. But maybe instead of just a time-out as a punishment, it serves as a time-out for Zechariah to collect himself, to reflect, to wait and watch and perceive the world around him in a new way. Perhaps this period is space for Zechariah to learn to greet the world anew, to pay attention for Divine messengers that show up all around. 

Now I have to assume that when Zechariah returned home, he found somehow to communicate with Elizabeth, to describe what had happened. But the text jumps right ahead to Elizabeth becoming pregnant. There is no Divine messenger who appears to her, yet her response is, “This is what the Lord has done for me in this time, when God looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.” Her response is juxtaposed with Zechariah’s doubting response. It is immediate and joyful and accepting. It’s almost like she senses she is pregnant and immediately gets up off the couch to greet God at the door with praise and thanks. 

Many verses later than the passage we read earlier, we get to the conclusion of this story as the couple goes to name the child. Elizabeth insists that his name will be John. When those in their community say this can’t be right because they don’t have any relatives named John, Zechariah asks for something to write on. He scribbles out “His name is John.” And it is only after he affirms what his wife has said that his own voice is returned. Perhaps this once again affirms that good news will most always, certainly, involve supporting women.

With his voice returned, Zechariah begins to speak a prophecy about the child, saying, 

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High,

    for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,

to give his people knowledge of salvation

    by the forgiveness of their sins.

Because of the tender mercy of our God,

    the dawn from on high has broken upon us,

to shine upon those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,

    to guide our feet into the way of peace.

He speaks of a new dawn breaking upon the people and light shining on those in darkness. Those are beautiful metaphors of hope, but let us remember that joyful, too, can be the dark. God visits us within the dawning but also within the darkening, on the pale wings of doves and the plumage black and bright of ravens. Sometimes we just need a little more time for our eyes to adjust to the darkness before we can begin to see the blessings it holds. 

When God shows up unexpectedly in darkness or in the light, I don’t think there is a generational divide to how a person reacts. Instead maybe we can look to the scriptural examples and find ourselves in those stories. 

Maybe we are like Zechariah: when God shows up we convince ourselves that it can’t be true but we actually just need some time to sit quietly with the idea. 

Maybe we are a total Isaiah: When God shows up we get overwhelmed with joy yelling “Here I am” as we make our way to the door, only to find that God needs us to help with some hard work. 

Maybe we are definitely a Jonah: When God rings our doorbell we know that is definitely for us but we run out the back door, only to get caught anyway. 

Or maybe we find ourselves in Moses: Agreeing to answer the call but knowing we need to ask for some help. Or maybe in the Apostle Paul: hearing the call and instantly changing everything about ourselves. Or maybe we are like Mary: Nervous at first, but ready and willing because we see the vision so clearly. 

I think all of these are valid responses to however God may visit us, because there is no way to fully prepare for Divine revelation, especially if we trust that God can show up anywhere, anytime, through anyone or anything. Whether we are in the holiest of holy spaces or participating in the most mundane routines of everyday life, God can show up on those metaphorical doorsteps. 

We can never be fully prepared, but I do think we can always be preparing. That’s why the season of Advent gets its own season, separate from Christmas, because preparation and anticipation and waiting and watching are holy acts in and of themselves. We can always be preparing by paying attention, by trusting that God can be found in both the darkness and the light, by believing that every visit, every encounter, every chance meeting is an opportunity to find the good and accept the gift. 

So let us not treat this season of Advent as just the prelude to Christmas. Let us recognize the holiness in the waiting. Let us create sacred space for paying attention. Let us continue preparing as if the answers to our prayers were already unfolding around us with every breaking dawn and each slow fade into night. 

We never know who may be showing up on our doorstep unexpectedly, but if we have hearts that are open we may just begin to find God present in every person, every situation, every moment that graces our path. 

[after a pause, play the doorbell sound one more time…]