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NOTE: This is the third of four short stories i am posting this Advent season about the incarnational birth of Jesus. They are fictional first-person accounts of the prophecies and events surrounding the advent of Jesus. Some of the characters and details contained therein are fictional, but you will find the truth they convey to be very REAL! My prayer is that through the stories you are reminded of the Good News of Advent this Christmas season.
The stories include:
Gabriel – the angel (December 1)
Zechariah – the priest (December 8)
Elizabeth – the cousin (This week - December 15)
Anna – the prophetess (December 22)
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I am Elizabeth, the wife of Zechariah, and I am a blessed woman.
My father was a priest from the ancestral line of Zadok, a descendant of Phineas, the son of Eleazar, the son of Aaron. Zadok was chosen to serve as the high priest of Israel by King David and continued to serve in that capacity throughout the reign of King Solomon. He was the first high priest to serve in the First Temple in Jerusalem.
Zadok’s descendants continued to serve as high priests in the temple even through the Babylonian exile. My ancestor, Ezra, was sent to Jerusalem by King Artaxerxes to serve as the Zadokite high priest in the newly restored Second Temple. And his descendants continued to serve in that capacity until they were pushed out by the Hasmoneans about one hundred fifty years ago.
For centuries, our Zadokite priestly line preserved the Messianic prophecies of Isaiah and the foretelling that the Messiah will come from the line of King David. The Hasmoneans, however, desired to usurp the legitimate royal line of King David by making themselves the kings of Israel. That is what motivated them to also seize the legitimate priestly role of my ancestral family. We currently live in a socio-political environment that is hostile toward anyone claiming that the Messiah will come from the line of David.
As a result, my father and other Zadokite priests believed the activity in the temple and the actions of our Sanhedrin were more politically motivated than spiritually motivated. They saw that many of the teachings and actions of our religious leaders were attempts to manipulate truth for their advantage rather than advocate adherence to absolute truth.
That prompted a number of our Zadokite priests to form a sect within Judaism called the Essenes. Not only do the Essenes believe the Messiah will come from the line of David, they also devote themselves to charity and benevolence, studying the books of the elders, preservation of truth, prayer, and fellowship with one another.
While I was still living under my parents’ roof, my older brother left Hebron to go raise his family in Qumran among the Essene adherents. By that time, my family had already made marriage arrangements for me to be wed to Zechariah. So, Hebron would continue to be my home.
From a young age, I sought to honor God and to obey all of His commandments. I tried to live righteously and circumspectly before the people around me. Hebron had been one of the cities given to the patriarch Caleb, and it had been one of the initial cities of refuge. I desired to be a reflection of the faithfulness exemplified by Caleb and his family – and for my home to always be a place of refuge.
Zechariah and I were married when I was fourteen years of age. He was twenty-nine, and he was handsome. But more importantly, he was a good man and a godly man. Though I can’t say that I loved him when we were first married, I grew to love him. Actually, we grew to love each other. And I am thankful to Jehovah God for the husband He has given me.
My hope and prayer, even before we were married, was that God would grant Zechariah and me a home filled with sons and daughters. Zechariah had often quoted a psalm of Solomon: “Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from Him.”(1) My prayer was that God would greatly reward my husband! But as the years passed and I was unable to conceive, it appeared God had different plans for us.
Honestly, though, the desire for children never left my heart. Even as I approached the age where motherhood was no longer an option, my longing still persisted.
Zechariah traveled to Jerusalem about a year ago to perform his priestly duties in the temple for the eighth week of the new year. He was particularly excited about this trip. He had been chosen to burn the offering of incense on the altar in the sanctuary. He had prayed for that opportunity all of his life, and now at the age of seventy-seven his prayer was being answered. I was excited for him as I watched him leave and begin his journey.
Zechariah traveled to Jerusalem for one week five times a year. Sometimes, I would join him. In recent years, rooms had been added to the temple complex to provide lodging for the visiting priests and their wives. My widowed sister-in-law, Anna, now lived in one of those apartments year-round, so I occasionally joined Zechariah in order to visit her – as well as participate in the celebrations in the temple. This time however, I stayed home.
The week Zechariah was gone went by quickly. It was springtime and I was busy preparing and planting our small field for what I hoped would be a bountiful harvest of fruits and vegetables. As a matter of fact, I was in the field when Zechariah returned home.
I saw him approaching from a distance. I was surprised he was not calling out to me like he usually did. I expected him to run toward me, excitedly sharing about his time in the sanctuary. But he seemed unusually subdued.
As he gave me his customary embrace, he was completely silent.
“Has the cat got your tongue?” I teased. “Why are you so quiet? Tell me all of your news! I want to hear all about your time!”
But I knew something was wrong when I saw the sadness in his eyes. He began to gesture and it quickly became clear that he was unable to speak. Somehow, he had become mute! He kept pointing toward heaven, and then he would place his hand on my stomach. Next, he made a gesture as if he were cradling a baby in his arms.
As the afternoon wore on, we continued in our attempt to communicate. He made gestures and wrote some words in the dirt and then on a tablet. I also asked him questions that he could answer with a nod of his head. Finally, I was able to piece together the story.
An angel named Gabriel had appeared to him while he was in the sanctuary. He told Zechariah that we were going to have a son and his name would be John. And he would prepare the way for the coming Messiah!
No wonder Zechariah was silent – that was a lot to take in! But he helped me understand that God had made him mute because of his initial reaction of disbelief. I was grateful to learn that his condition was temporary, and his speech would return after our son was born.
That night I marveled at all of this news! I had stopped hoping for a child. I was sixty-two years old, and I was soon to be a mother. Our prayers were being answered. The kindness of the Lord was overwhelming. “He has taken away my disgrace of having no children,”(2) I exclaimed.
It wasn’t long before I became pregnant. My excitement grew each day – along with the baby in my womb. But it was challenging to explain to people what was happening – particularly in light of Zechariah’s muteness. We finally decided it would be easier if I remained secluded in our home. So, for the next five months I had little contact with anyone.
One afternoon during the sixth month of my pregnancy, a young woman approached our home and called out to me from the entry. When I went to greet her, I realized it was my young cousin, Mary, from Nazareth. (My father’s sister had married a man from Nazareth by the name of Matthat. Mary was their granddaughter.)
But then the most amazing thing happened. When Mary spoke to me, the baby within me leapt. I felt the flush of a presence come over me. I was filled with knowledge that had no explanation other than the Holy Spirit had just come upon me.
As I looked at Mary, I immediately knew that she, too, was with child. Though she was not showing yet, my spirit just knew she was carrying a child. And this was not just any child. This child was the Son of the living God. The child she was carrying was the very One for whom my son was being sent to prepare the way!
“God has blessed you above all women, Mary,” I exclaimed, “and your Child is blessed.”(3) As I ushered Mary into my home I said, “Why am I so honored, that the mother of my Lord should visit me? When I heard your greeting, the baby in my womb jumped for joy.”(4)
Mary explained how an angel had appeared to her, and how he had told her she would conceive a child as a virgin and give birth to a son. And the child would be the Son of the Most High.
I asked her to describe the angel’s appearance. Her description was identical to what I had been able to glean from Zechariah. I could not contain my excitement as I explained to her what the angel Gabriel had told Zechariah.
Mary interrupted me and said, “The angel told me, ‘Your relative Elizabeth has become pregnant in her old age! People used to say she was barren, but she conceived a son and is now in her sixth month. For the word of God will never fail.’”(5)
I do not know who was more encouraged at that moment – Mary or me! Though neither of us had any real doubt leading up to that moment, that conversation was such a precious confirmation. Mary bore witness to what Zechariah had heard, and Zechariah’s account bore witness to what Mary had heard.
We were walking through an experience together that no one else could fully understand – one that had never occurred before and never would again. Yes, we both were women blessed to be bearing a child – but these were not just any children. Mary’s was the Son of the living God, and mine was the messenger who would prepare His way. All of creation was awaiting their arrival. All of time was pointing to their birth. And here they were in our wombs!
I looked at Mary and said, “You are blessed because you believed that the Lord would do what He said.”(6)
Mary stayed with me for three months. It gave us the opportunity to talk about many things. She told me that she was betrothed to a carpenter. She had not yet told him about the angel’s visit or the child she was carrying. She feared how he would react. He was a gentle man and a God-fearing man. Would he understand? What would he do? She hadn’t yet told her father, either. She had come straight away to see me.
I reminded her that the same Holy Spirit who had come over me to tell me about the child she was carrying before she uttered a word was able to speak to her father and Joseph. The same God who enabled a barren old woman and a virgin to each conceive a child was able to do all that was necessary to prepare their hearts to receive the news. Again, I said, “You are blessed because you believed … and so will they.”
Mary soon returned home, and the time arrived for my baby to be born. Most of my neighbors had not known I was pregnant, so when they heard I had a son, they rejoiced that God had been merciful to me.
When my baby was eight days old, all of our neighbors came for the circumcision ceremony. They kept suggesting that we name him Zechariah in honor of his father. But I exclaimed, “No! His name is John!”(8)
They responded, “But there is no one in all of your family by that name.”(9)
They sought to gain Zechariah’s approval of their suggestion. He motioned for a writing tablet, and to everyone’s surprise wrote, “His name is John.”(10)
Then instantly, my husband’s voice returned, and he began to praise God! Zechariah told all of those gathered about the angel who had appeared to him and what the angel said. The entire community was in awe as the news spread throughout the Judean hills. “What will this child turn out to be?” they exclaimed. “Because the hand of the Lord is surely upon him in a special way!”(11)
God has blessed us with this precious son in our advanced years. We know that God has all things in hand. We asked Him to show us to whom we should entrust our son if we are to die before he is grown. The Lord reminded us that He has already prepared my brother’s son, Adriel, who lives in Qumran to raise our son when that day arrives. He has given us a peace that nothing in our son’s life has been left to chance.
As Zechariah said,
“Because of God’s tender mercy,
the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
and to guide us to the path of peace.”(12)
Little did I know how that morning light would break or exactly what the path of peace would look like, but I know who does. And I will trust Him!
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This story is taken from Little Did We Know, a collection of twenty-five stories for the Advent season. The book is available through Amazon in standard print, large print, for your e-reader, and as an audiobook. Click HERE for more information on how you can obtain your copy.
You can listen to the audiobook version of this story by tuning into this week’s episode of my podcast by CLICKING HERE
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In multiple instances the dialogue in this story comes directly from Scripture. Whenever i am quoting Scripture, it has been italicized. The Scripture references are as follows:
(1) Psalm 127:3
(2) Luke 1:25
(3) Luke 1:42
(4) Luke 1:43-44
(5) Luke 1:36-37
(6) Luke 1:45
(7) Luke 1:46-48, 55
(8) Luke 1:60
(9) Luke 1:61
(10)Luke 1:63
(11)Luke 1:66
(12)Luke 1:78-79
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