Blessed be God, anyway

When the family gathered at the time of birth, they were prepared to name the child after his father, but Zechariah wrote that his name would be different from any in his family; it would be John, which means “God has been gracious.”

And the family and neighbors were filled with consternation.

Blessed be God, anyway.

But upon writing the name, suddenly Zechariah was able to speak, and he sang the canticle we heard as the Gospel lesson this afternoon: “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited his people and redeemed them.”

And speaking to the child, he sang: “And you child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way....”

That will be a dangerous job.

Blessed be God, anyway.

And everyone was amazed and said “What will this child become?”

Blessed be God, anyway.

Then there came the long years of growing up, and all that Zechariah and Elizabeth could do was wait and pray and wonder what God had in mind.

Blessed be God, anyway.

We don't hear any more about Zechariah and Elizabeth.

We don't know if they heard or experienced anything of John's meteor-like brief career as a prophet, or if they could cling only to the first vision that Zechariah had in the Temple as their source of hope.

Blessed be God, anyway.

Perhaps they died before seeing anything more; but it was enough.

Blessed be God, anyway.

There is lots more waiting and watching in our lives than there is experiencing the joy of the presence of God.

Blessed be God, anyway.

We have heard a promise at Holy Baptism, “You are mine, forever.” But that was so long ago.

Blessed be God, anyway.

There are little glimpses that we have – the times that we gather at the Lord's Table,

the moment of sharing the Peace in a genuine way,

the times when the Gospel makes it through our ears and strikes our hearts – but these are fleeting moments, and subject to distractions and misunderstandings.

So what we can do is sing:

Blessed be God, anyway.

And there are the times, plenty of times, that we are burdened with sorrow, deepest grief, when the promise seems faint and its fulfillment distant.

What we can do is continue to sing with Zechariah and every other generation:

Blessed be God, anyway.

Hold onto the promise: “Lo, I am with you to the close of the age.”

Remember the covenant: “I am the Lord your God, and you shall be my people.”

Anticipate God's completed work: “And I saw a new heaven and a new earth....See, the home of God is among mortals, and he will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more.... Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

Blessed be God, anyway.

At every stage of life there is grieving as we give up persons and relationships:

the school chums that move away and we never see again,

the teachers we leave behind,

the times that we move to a new town,

the jobs that we give up to go on to something different,

and the grief also at the death of friends, relatives, and our dearest beloved.

Still, we sing:

Blessed be God, anyway.

Because his promises are stronger and more enduring that all of the pains, disappointments, and losses that we know.

Blessed be God, anyway.

It is the image of the vine and the branches that gives us encouragement.

The vine which is Christ is wounded and we are grafted into that vine, draw our strength from him, and flourish because of that graft, through which we are related to every other person in Christ, including our beloved.

“Comfort, comfort ye my people,” says the Lord through the prophet Isaiah, “speak tenderly to her.”

Blessed be God, anyway.

Zechariah waited, and we wait as well for the completion of God's creative work.

When the times are joyful, and when the times are painful, our refrain is still the same:

Blessed be God, anyway.

And that is enough. Amen.

Please note: The preceding sermon is provided as a resource for the thought, prayer, and meditation of the members and friends of St. Mark's. It is the residue of a verbal event, and thus it does not have academic footnotes and other details that would be expected in a written document. The writer gladly acknowledges the prior thought and work of many Christians before him.