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NOTE: As has become my annual practice, starting last week and for the three subsequent weeks, i will be posting a total of four short stories surrounding the incarnational birth of Jesus. The stories are my Christmas gift to you. 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. To that end, let’s look at the account through the eyes of four different eyewitnesses:
Gabriel – the angel (December 1)
Zechariah – the priest (This week - December 8)
Elizabeth – the cousin (December 15)
Anna – the prophetess (December 22)
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I am Zechariah, a priest of the tribe of Levi from the line of Abijah and Aaron. The line of Abijah is one of the twenty-four priestly divisions established by King David. My father, Abdiel, was a priest, as was my older brother, Menachem. Our family lived and served in the hill country of Judea, in the city of Hebron.
Over four hundred years have passed since the writings of the prophet Malachi. The Persian Empire was defeated by Alexander the Great about one hundred years after Malachi died. As a result, Judea came under the rule of the Greeks. But later, the Greek civilization divided, and we became part of the Seleucid Empire. That is, until a priest named Judas Maccabeus led our people in revolt.
When Jerusalem was liberated, we enjoyed a brief respite of self-rule by the kings of the Hasmonean dynasty. Though we were independent, we were still influenced by the Seleucids. We enjoyed religious freedom, but our peaceful existence was precarious because of the competing empires surrounding us.
This was the political and religious condition at the time of my birth. In those days, our Hasmonean kings also served as our high priests; but otherwise, the priests of each division carried out duties as King David had decreed.
Five times each year our priestly division makes its way to Jerusalem to offer daily sacrifices in the temple and to convey priestly blessings. We serve two one-week periods each year, as well as during the three major feasts of Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles.
When I was a boy, barely a young man of fifteen who was still living in my parents’ home, my older brother traveled to Jerusalem to serve for the second one-week course that year. He and I were close despite our age difference. I looked up to him and wanted to be just like him.
Even though he was still a young priest of only thirty years of age, the leading priests on that occasion granted him the opportunity to be one of the priests to enter into the holy place and present that day’s offering of incense before the Lord. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that many priests never experienced, particularly one so young.
I prayed that one day Jehovah God in His mercy would grant me an opportunity to do the same. I was excitedly awaiting my brother’s return home to hear all about his experience in the sanctuary. But he never returned home. He had died unexpectedly in his sleep. His young wife, my parents, and I were devastated.
Fourteen years later, I married a young woman named Elizabeth. She, too, is from the priestly family of Aaron and our parents have been close friends for many years. She was born around the same time my brother died, and our parents arranged our betrothal when she was still a child. Elizabeth and I earnestly prayed for a son. But as the years passed, we began to become painfully aware that God had other plans for us. Our hearts ached.
The world around us continued to change, as well. Ten years before I married Elizabeth, Judea became a client state of the Roman Empire. That meant we still had a Hasmonean king, but he now answered to Rome and our sense of independence was diminishing. But that, too, changed ten years after Elizabeth and I were married. The Roman senate installed Herod as the “King of the Jews” and established a more visible military presence throughout the region. There was no longer any illusion of independence. We were firmly under the control of Rome.
We were afraid that the pagan practices of our Roman conquerors would be thrust on us, but gratefully that did not happen. As a matter of fact, King Herod did something that soon caused him to gain our favor. He commissioned an extensive restoration of the temple. The First Temple built by King Solomon had been a majestic structure. But it was destroyed by our Babylonian captors.
The Second Temple reconstructed by Zerubbabel was a much more modest structure. Herod determined that a “great king” needed to make sure the people had a “great temple” in which to worship their God. The entire structure was completely refurbished. The restoration work was accomplished without any disruption to our worship or festival celebrations.
Each time I came to Jerusalem to carry out my duties as a priest throughout the construction period, I was amazed by the work that had been done. The work took about eight years to complete, and when it was finished the structure rivaled – and many would say eclipsed – the majesty and magnificence of the First Temple.
It’s hard to believe that thirteen years have passed since the restoration was completed. I am now seventy-seven years old. Elizabeth is sixty-two and we long ago gave up on our hopes of becoming parents. We are well past the age of bearing and raising children.
Last week, I bid Elizabeth farewell and traveled from Hebron to Jerusalem to serve for the first one-week course of this year’s service. It was a beautiful spring day. I will confess that the journey seemed less burdensome than usual. I had received word that I was to present the offering of incense on the altar in the sanctuary. I did not know which day I would be doing so, but I was one of the fourteen priests who had been chosen from my division for that week.
I couldn’t help but think of my brother. Over sixty years had passed since he was chosen for this honor. I can remember his excitement – and mine for him. For a moment, my excitement turned to melancholy. I still missed him!
When I arrived at the temple, I learned I would present the offering at twilight on the first day of the week. I was grateful that I would not have to contain my excitement any longer.
As I entered into the temple’s sanctuary, I was in awe. There before me was the veil that separated the sanctuary from the Holy of Holies. Only the High Priest is permitted to enter into the very presence of Jehovah God in the Holy of Holies – and that occurs only once per year on the Day of Atonement. I would never be closer to the Lord’s presence than I was today.
I was quite emotional as I realized that no matter how righteous I endeavored to be, I was but a sinner standing in the presence of a Holy God. It was only by His mercy and grace that I was permitted to enter into this holy place to present this offering of incense to Him.
There before me, in front of the veil, stood the golden altar. The fragrance of incense permeated the air. First, I placed on the altar the burning coals I had brought from the bronze altar of sacrifice in the courtyard. Then, I prepared and placed the incense, made of equal portions of stacte, onycha, galbanum, and frankincense. As the sweet-smelling smoke of the incense rose as a pleasing aroma to God, I quietly prayed and interceded on behalf of the people.
Even though my eyes were closed, I suddenly sensed a light radiating before me. As I opened my eyes, I saw a man standing to the right of the incense altar. My first reaction was, “What is this man doing in here?” But quickly, I realized he was glowing. He did not appear to be the source of the light, rather he appeared to be reflecting a light. I knew this was no ordinary man. My heightened senses and emotions transitioned to fear. Why was this “man” here and what was taking place?
Suddenly, he spoke. “Don’t be afraid, Zechariah! God has heard your prayer. Your wife, Elizabeth, will give you a son, and you are to name him John.”(1)
He continued speaking – but honestly, I could not understand everything he was saying. He told me he was a messenger from God. Was he an angel? No one had heard a message from God in hundreds of years, and no one had seen an angel in longer than that. Did God still send angels, and did they speak to men? I am a sinner. How can I stand in his presence? What is he going to do to me?
Don’t be afraid! Of course, I’m afraid! And he says Elizabeth will give me a son! How can that be? We long ago stopped praying for a son. Why is God answering now? We’re too old! Is this a dream? Am I just hearing things? Surely, this can’t be true!
I worked up the courage to ask, “How can I be sure this will happen? I’m an old man now, and my wife is also well along in years.”(2)
To which he sternly responded, “I am Gabriel! I stand in the very presence of God. It was He who sent me to bring you this good news! But now, since you didn’t believe what I said, you will be silent and unable to speak until the child is born. For my words will certainly be fulfilled at the proper time.”(3)
My fear quickly melted into sorrow. God had sent one of His angels to bring me a message. He had waited until I was here in this special and holy place. At a time when my ears should have been the most attuned to the voice of my Lord, I had been fearful of His messenger. At a time when my heart should have been the most receptive to His message, I questioned if it were true.
Instead of rejoicing at this news, I had responded with disbelief. God was not only sending me a son – the son he was sending me would prepare the way for the arrival of my Messiah! And he would be filled “with the spirit and power of Elijah.”(4)
The world needed to hear and know that the Messiah will soon arrive. For centuries we have waited to hear that good news. For centuries we have awaited the messenger who would come before Him. And now this angel has told me that the messenger was to be my son! But because of my faithlessness, I would be unable to proclaim the news.
I lifted my head to speak to the angel, but he was gone. The light no longer radiated in the sanctuary. I tried to speak, but no words came out; I was mute. I was unable to tell anyone, including my dear Elizabeth, this wonderful news. My heart was overjoyed – and heavy – all at the same time.
My service here in the sanctuary was complete. It was time for me to return to the outer court. But I didn’t know how I would face those waiting for me. What should I do since I was unable to speak?
After a brief time, I came out of the sanctuary. One of my fellow priests was the first to approach me. He wanted to know what my experience was like. He was looking forward to one day presenting the offering of incense, too. But I couldn’t answer him. All I could do was gesture.
He quickly realized I was unable to speak. Others began to gather around us. I heard one of the people say, “He is so overcome with emotion having presented the offering to Jehovah God that he can’t speak.” Some nodded their heads in agreement. Another said, “Perhaps God has given him a vision in the sanctuary!” Others said, “Zechariah, tell us what you saw!”
But I could not. And my muteness continued for the remainder of my week of service. After a while, my fellow priests just stopped asking. They looked at me with pity and told me everything would be all right.
It wasn’t going to be all right – it was going to be great! The Messiah was coming … and so was my son! But I couldn’t tell them that.
At the end of the week, I made my way back home. How was I going to explain this to Elizabeth?
Little did I know how or what I would say. Little did I fully comprehend the role my son would play. Little did I know how much more there would be to the story.
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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) Luke 1:13
(2) Luke 1:18
(3) Luke 1:19-20
(4) Luke 1:17
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