Sermon: "Doubt is our Default," Second Sunday in Advent December 8, 2024
Scripture: Luke 1:5-25
Preacher: The Rev. Ryan Slifka
For those unfamiliar with the Bible it may come as a surprise that Jesus is not the only miracle baby in the New Testament.
Here we have Zechariah, a priest at the temple. A priest who comes from a long-line of priests. And we have his wife, Elizabeth, who’s family tree can be traced all the way back to Aaron, the first priest. These are holy people, the children of holy people. And not only that, they’re righteous people. As good, moral, upright, upstanding as you get.
There’s a problem, though. I love how our translation gently puts it, they are “getting on in years.” They’re very old. And Elizabeth has been unable to conceive from day one. Which can be rather painful for anyone, but in Elizabeth’s culture this comes with an extra layer of hurt. Folks assume that her and Zechariah have done something wrong. Even that it’s a punishment for sin. This is a source of deep shame.
One day, though, something incredible happens:
Zechariah’s in the temple sanctuary offering incense to the Lord, while the whole congregation is gathered in prayer outside. And suddenly, just standing there to the right of the altar is an angel. A messenger of the Lord.
Zechariah is, understandably, freaked out. The angel, which we find out later is Gabriel, the general of the heavenly armies, calms him down. “Be not afraid,” he says. “Be not afraid—I’m here as an answer your prayers.
That baby you’ve always wanted he says—it’s on the way. The happiness you’ve always longed for—in 9 months transit. And he’s gonna be a special baby. He’s gonna be a holy man—he won’t drink because he’ll be filled with the Holy Spirit instead. He’ll turn so many of God’s people back to God, that he’ll set the stage for the coming of the Messiah, the Lord’s anointed. The One who’ll set the world right. This baby is John the Baptist. The one who baptizes Jesus. Who sets set the stage for him.
So not only are Zechariah and Elizabeth going to get the baby they’ve always wanted, this baby’s gonna be a big deal. He’s gonna pave a runway for the Lord himself to touch down. Just like the scriptures said would happen. Good news, indeed.
As good as the news is, though—Zechariah doesn’t quite buy it. “How will I know this is so?” he asks. “I’m old, my wife’s old. Sounds too good to be true. Give me some kind of sign that this is gonna come true.”
Now, if you think about it, this is rather extraordinary. Remember—this guy is a priest at the temple. He’s in the religion business. He knows the scriptures inside out. He prays multiple times daily—he even gets to enter the holiest of holies in God’s presence, unlike most less holy people. Him and his wife are both as righteous as righteous can be. You’d think this guy, a prime candidate for faith if there ever were one would believe. And yet, this guy. An angel stands right in front of him. And yet, he doubts.
It reminds me of when it was revealed through her diaries that Mother Theresa, who was made a Saint by the Roman Catholic Church, based on her work with the poorest of the poor on the streets of Calcutta. That she went through periods of prolonged, intense doubts. Doubts in herself, doubts in God’s existence and goodness. Some commentators basically pointed to her as a fraud. That she might have done a lot of good things. But she didn’t actually believe the message she preached.
Which does beg a question: if a righteous dude like Zechariah, or a literal saint, like Theresa, a posterchild for faithfulness, has trouble believing, even, what kind of chance to do the rest of us have? I mean, I have trouble believing in the very existence of God on my best days, let alone that two old people can have a baby. Let alone that God became a human being named Jesus, was crucified and rose on the third day. If the saints can’t seem to pull it off—even with angelic intervention—how can I? How can you? How can any of us? It can be discouraging.
It can be discouraging. But we can take some heart. We tend to think of the Bible as full of spiritual superheroes. Models of perfection, even. But that’s not the case. At all.
Abraham. The Father of the faith. Angel visits him and his wife Sarah. Even though like Zechariah and Elizabeth, they’re beyond child bearing years, they’re told they’re gonna have more descendants than the number of stars. But Abraham? Literally same words as Zecariah. How will I know this is so? Sarah just laughs when she finds out.
And then there’s Mary just verses later in this chapter. Gabriel says—you unwed teenager you—you’re going to become pregnant by the Spirit and the baby’s gonna be the Messiah. Her answer—how could this be?
These are two of the Biblical superstars and they doubt. In fact, you could say that doubt itself has been part of our condition since the beginning. Story of Adam and Eve—they doubt that God’s telling them the truth. You can have any tree but the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Eat that one you’ll die. They trust the snake instead.
You could say that church is more akin to Doubters Anonymous than it is a conclave of the totally confident. Because, from the most wretched sinner to the most sanctified saint, we come from a long line of doubters. Doubt is our human default.
Which isn’t to say doubting God is a good thing. We want to trust God. We want to follow Jesus. We want to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength, and love our neighbours as ourselves. We want to believe that there is a benevolent love at the heart of the universe, rather than cold nothingness. We want to believe that, in the words of Julian of Norwich, that “all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well,” and that our hearts will one day be filled with never ending joy.
But it is some kind of relief. The Christian message has always been for doubters. Of all kinds. It’s encouraging. Because it means we’re no different. Doubt, not faith, is our human default.
Now, because we are all doubters of some kind… like Abraham, like Zechariah, like Mary, we all need some kind of sign. Some token from God that will kindle faith in us.
And a sign is what Gabriel gives.
“Look,” says the angel. “I’m Gabriel. You know who I am. General of the heavenly armies. I’ve been sent here to drop this good news bomb on you by the Lord himself. It’ll come true, trust me. But now, in the meantime, since you aren’t buying it, you’re going to lose your voice. Not a peep from you,” says Gabriel. “Not a peep from you. Until it all comes true.”
Now, many commentators throughout history have understood this forced silence as a punishment. As the Lord chastising Zechariah for his disbelief. Like, I’m gonna take away your voice so you better start believing by the time that baby comes. You know, the next scene has to be pretty hard when Zechariah leaves the temple, and he’s supposed to speak, and bless the crowd, but all he can do is gesture. Make faces and signs. And when he goes home, his wife Elizabeth seems to be able to praise the Lord just fine. As a preacher, my job is basically talking in front of people, or to people. It’d feel like a punishment, that’s for sure.
In reality, though Zechariah’s silence, too, is a sign.
To get it, you have to know the book of Daniel from the Old Testament. Daniel, too, was visited by the angel Gabriel who stood in the presence of God. Gabriel said to Daniel what Gabriel said to Zechariah, “be not afraid… your prayers have been answered.” Gabriel was there to deliver good news about the future—in Daniel’s case the rescue of God’s people. And in response, Daniel, too, was struck silent. He couldn’t speak, until something like a human hand touched his lips, making it so he could speak again. Same deal with Zechariah.[i]
So Zechariah’s silence itself is a sign. That in the same way the Lord sent Gabriel to Daniel, God has sent Gabriel to Zechariah. He can take his silence as the assurance that in the same way God made good on his promise to deliver Israel from bondage in Babylon, God would deliver God’s people, and indeed the entire creation.
Since our default is doubt, not faith, we all need signs. And Zechariah’s is that sign. That it would all come true. Not an easy sign. A hard one in, fact. But a sign nonetheless.
Faith doesn’t come easy. Doubt is our default. We all need signs. So what kind of sign should we be looking for?
Now, some of us here have had ecstatic or mystical experiences. Supernatural or otherwise. Ones that have spoken to us deep in our bones, leading us to believe, or believe more deeply. But a lot of us haven’t. A lot of us might never see Gabriel. Or be struck mute. Or anything like that.
Not only that, but signs like that can just as easily become idols or powerplays. Remember when Jesus feeds the five thousand, multiplying a few fish and a few loaves of bread? The crowds response isn’t faith. It’s give us more bread! Imagine the cash Jesus could generate by turning stones into bread![ii] It’s why we might be rightly skeptical of miracle ministries or faith healings. Not because we discount the miraculous, but that we human beings can twist signs into self-service. Just like anything else. We need signs. But so many lead us astray.
But there is, of course, one sign we can trust. One sign for certain.
Later in Luke’s gospel Jesus says the only sign he gives is the sign of Jonah. That, like Jonah, who was swallowed in the belly of a great fish for three days to be spit up on dry land, turning the hearts of the city of Ninevah to the Lord. Jesus himself was nailed to a cross. Swallowed up in death, thrown into hell itself. Like Zechariah, struck silent before his interrogators, and silent Friday and Saturday. Only to burst forth from the grave again on the third day. That Jesus himself, in his life, death, and resurrection is the sign given to all.
Jesus is the sign that tells you and I that the kind of joy Gabriel promises to Zechariah is ours.
An incredible sign, yes. One that comes with its own set of doubts, of course. But Jesus himself is the angel of God’s presence. God’s living promise to us for a future without end. Even though we will have to wait for its coming in full, Jesus is God saying to you right here and right now-- “it’s all true.” He comes to us through hearing. Through the preaching of the Word. Meaning every sermon, rightly preached, every baptism and Lord’s supper rightly administered. And every act of grace done in his name is that sign for you. You, we may get side-tracked all the time, but the primary function of the church, the primary function of our lives as his disciples is to lift high the cross, the love of Christ to proclaim, till all the world adore his sacred name.[iii]
For all in need of a sign! For all in need of hope! Jesus, crucified and risen is that sign! The cross is steady while the world turns![iv]
We are all doubters in need of a sign, in need of hope, and Jesus is the sign given to dispel our doubts, and to stoke our hopes. Sunday after Sunday, day after day after day until that final day. When the promise comes true. And the same God who hung the stars in the sky, the same God who hung from the cross on Calvary, comes again to hang his love like holly from every corner of creation. And every human heart.
So dear friends. Be not discouraged by your doubts. No matter how many, no matter how deep. Because we come from a long-line of doubters. From Abraham to Zechariah, to Mary and all the way down the line. The good news is that doubt is a part of the spiritual journey. For even the best of us. We’re not alone.
But the EVEN BETTER news is that in the face of our doubts, no matter their severity, we have been given a sign. One that we can cling to in our darkest times. From our first breath to our latest and longest of days. We can rejoice, having joy and gladness all of our days. And that sign is Christ, by highest heaven adored, Christ the everlasting Lord![v] The One who came at Christmas is the one who will come again to finish the work he began in Christ, the work he planned since before the beginning of time.
May you heard his good news and live! May you look upon his beauty and believe!
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. AMEN.
[i] Raymond E. Brown, The Birth of the Messiah: A Commentary on the Infancy Narratives in Matthew and Luke (New York: DoubleDay, 1979), 270.
[ii] The first temptation of Jesus, in fact. See Matthew 4, especially verses 3-4.
[iii] George William Kitchin, “Lift Hight the Cross,” in Voices United #151.
[iv] Matthew Ruttan, “The cross is steady while the world turns,” The UP Devotional https://theupdevo.com/2021/11/22/the-cross-is-steady-while-the-world-turns/
[v] Charles Wesley, “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” in Voices United #48.For those unfamiliar with the Bible it may come as a surprise that Jesus is not the only miracle baby in the New Testament.