I know nothing about weaving patterned rugs. It’s a pity,
because this may be a dying art. They don’t seem to be as popular as they used
to be. I blame TV makeover shows that constantly recommend neutral shades and
the complete absence of strong patterns. Despite my ignorance, even I know that
only one side of the rug carries the pattern. The other side, the underside, is
often a visual mess; just lots of strands and flecks here and there. Somehow
that visual chaos is exactly what is required to produce the pattern that you
see on the other side. I wonder if that’s how it appears to a master rug maker?
Maybe they can see a pattern even in the underside mess.
Sometimes life appears to be a bit of mess, at least at the
scale most of us necessarily perceive it. When I read about the lives of others,
I wonder just how much of the big picture, the pattern, people living their
lives are aware of. In the first chapter of his account of the life and times of
Jesus of Nazareth, Luke weaves together the strands of two particular lives,
recounting two particular pre-birth narratives. Why the two stories? There’s
very definitely weaving going on as Luke cuts from one story to the other and
back again. I think that he does this because he wants us to compare and
contrast. The main strands of the two narratives concern an older man, and a
young girl. One is famously part of the Christmas story (the young girl), the
other is one of Christmas’ forgotten characters, Zechariah.
Zechariah is an interesting pick, particularly at this point
in his life. He’s a priest, and a fairly faithful one at that. Luke focuses on
a particular occasion, which is probably the high point of Zechariah’s priestly
career. It has fallen to him to go in to the temple in Jerusalem and burn incense
(symbolically to lead the people’s prayers). Once he has finished his task
inside, he will emerge out onto the temple steps, lift his arms and bless all
the people who are standing outside, waiting. The point is that he will
probably only get to do this once in his career. At this point in Israel’s
history, there are lots of priests and not that much to do. So this is his big
moment. Exciting as this probably was for him, something extraordinary then
happens. As he’s carrying out his duties in the enclosed space of the “Holy
Place” in the temple, an angel appears. You might think that this is a fairly
common occurrence, but in fact it’s not. As discussed previously,
it had been centuries since God had spoken to Israel, and even longer since
something like an angel appearing had happened. So this was far from what
Zechariah was expecting, and in fact Luke tells us it freaked him out. Once he’s
calmed down the angel (who we learn later was Gabriel) gives him good news and
better news. A baby is going to be born (and this after Zechariah and his wife
Elisabeth had probably given up hope of having children), and the baby is going
to grow into someone with a special job to do. This is something Zechariah has
been hoping for and praying about. But then it goes a bit pear-shaped.
If this were simple romantic fiction, Zechariah would run
home, give Elisabeth the good news and everyone would live happily ever after.
But precisely because angels suddenly appearing and saying exactly what you
want hear is not an everyday occurrence, it’s all a bit hard to take in. And
Zechariah basically tells Gabriel this – not a good idea. He basically asks “How
can I believe this?”, indiating a fairly basic lack of a willingness to believe
what he’s been told. Because of his lack of belief, poor old Z has to spend the
next nine months or so not being able to hear or speak, condemned, as it were,
to silence. On the one hand this seems a bit harsh. Yet on the other, it’s
symbolic that he’s behaved as Israel has all along. Not believing what God consistently
said to them had resulted in silence, as God had warned through the prophet
Amos (see Amos 8:11: ‘a famine….of hearing the words of the Lord’). That famine
was coming to end, and God was going to do something new. Zechariah, and for
that matter his son John, were part of that old story. Something new was about
to happen.
Of course, poor old Z’s big day is ruined. His encounter
with Gabriel is inside the temple. When he emerges after a delay, with all the
people looking to him to bless them, he can’t – he’s got no voice. This
particular thread in the pattern then just seems to peter out.
Six months later, the same angel turns up in Nazareth, to
speak to one of Elisabeth’s cousins, Mary. There’s obviously a number of
contrasts to be drawn between Zechariah and Mary. He was male, she was female,
at a time and in a culture where this really mattered. He was a mature, public
figure who had carved out his place in society. Mary was a teenager, somewhere
between childhood and marriage (she was betrothed – a legal status beyond
engagement, but less than marriage), probably not particularly well known
beyond her own family. Zechariah was given good news about something he had
longed for, hoping against hope. Mary was given disturbing news, with big implications
for her and her husband to be. But the real contrast is this. While Zechariah
reacted in disbelief, Mary took on board what she was told, and made it clear
she was ready to accept it, even although she didn’t understand fully what was
going on. Not for the first time, expectations are turned on their head. It’s
the educated, professional, religious (proud?) bloke who gets it wrong. It’s
the straightforward, if inexperienced but humble girl, that gets it right.
Luke continues to weave the threads. There are two songs,
and then two births to come. One birth will be a repeat of another promised
child born to a couple who were really too old to have children. It will have
its miraculous elements; it will be special, but not unique. The other birth
will be a miracle from start to finish, biologically inexplicable, and
eternally significant. The characters involved understood some things (like how
to make babies), and not others (like how to make particular babies). Z learns
to trust what his God tells him, and when he responds properly he will be
enabled to sing about “..light to those who sit in darkness..”. Mary, well we
know what happens to Mary.
How much of the big picture, the big pattern, did
they understand? Probably not much. But we have the benefit of a master weaver
revealing what’s going on. Mind you, even then we struggle to see the pattern
at times.
