Sermons
SONG OF ZECHARIAH
TEXT: Luke 1: 57-80
OUR STORY SO FAR
I’ll remind you of the back story of Zechariah, who was visited by the angel Gabriel while doing his priestly duties in the sanctuary of the Temple. When the angel Gabriel told Zechariah that he was going to be a father for the first time as a senior citizen, the venerable, long-time priest said, in effect: “I don’t buy it.”
Gabriel didn’t like that and reminded Zechariah that as one who stands in the presence of The Lord God, he deserved a little more respect. To teach Zechariah a lesson, he struck him mute until the prophecy would be fulfilled. I have always like to think of Zechariah as the deeply devout and quiet type—a pillar of the Jewish community who in his older age has mellowed to that quietly reserved wisdom that comes with maturity. This just makes the story better, for that this reserved and stately priest finally has something to say—something really fantastic and important—he, wide-eyed, opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
After Gabriel visits both Mary and Elizabeth with the good news of their pregnancies, and once the two of them have sung their marvelous, Holy Spirit-inspired songs, we have something of a lull until the babies are born. The great event, of course, is the birth of Jesus, which we celebrate tomorrow night, but first comes the birth of John the Baptizer. And that is where our text picks up today.
Now there are several important characters in the narrative, and all of them, true to New Testament fashion, are “characters” indeed. First, there are the “neighbors and relatives” that provide commentary and peer pressure. Next, there is Elizabeth, who solidly and confidently sticks to the plan revealed to her by the angel, and executes her lines on cue with the happy glow of new motherhood. But our hero today is Zechariah, who finally gets his tongue back once it can be put to some good use. Now let’s look at what happens, and see if anything in the story reminds us of. . .us.
Everyone is happy about the birth of the new baby and all the friends and neighbors rejoice, probably saying things like: “Now we have our own Abraham and Sarah—right here in the hill country!” Notice that the praise does not go to Elizabeth or Zechariah the priest, but the people praise God for his mercies to them. Remember also that Elizabeth’s barrenness has been a source of shame to her, and in that time, many used it to suggest that she was outside of God’s favor. This birth confirms what everyone who loves Elizabeth already knows; namely, that God is good and merciful. As many have said, God is rarely early but he is always on time. Yes, sometimes God takes it right down to the wire. Just as Elizabeth—like Sarah before her—has to wait until the bottom of the ninth inning for God to come to bat, but he steps up to the plate and vindicates the underdogs with a grand slam.
WE ARE FAMILY
It has been said that the public has a short memory. No sooner do we celebrate someone else’s triumphs than we begin to expect something from them. Imagine someone in your family—say a close brother or sister—won the lottery, 100 million bucks. After the hoorays and congratulations, how long would it take before you felt that you had the right to express your opinions about ways that money could be responsibly spent? Well, it happens, and it happens to Elizabeth. Before the echoes of rejoicing have finished bouncing off the nearby hills, as they take the boy to his bris to be circumcised, everyone has an opinion about what the boy should be named. Neighbors and relatives all pitch in their two-cents’ worth about the family name, reminding Elizabeth that it is very much their business indeed, thank you, what the boy should be called. “You should name him Zechariah, after his father the priest,” say some. But dear Elizabeth sticks to the plan. “No His name is John,” she says.
How easy it would have been, I think, for Elizabeth to have named the boy Yitzahk—Isaac—as Sarah in her old age names her son. Isaac means laughter, and you know that there were plenty of laughs here as there was with Sarah. But she sticks to the plan, gratefully, obediently, and names him John.
The name John is a shorter from of Jehohanan, which means God is gracious. It was the name God had ordered be given to the child and it described the parents’ gratitude for just such an unexpected joy.
Interesting thing, isn’t it, that the moment God gives us something, we think of it as ours? The neighbors and relatives are quick to receive the gift to their community, but seem to be short on returning gratitude to God in the form of a name. Thank God for Elizabeth. . .and Zechariah, as we shall see next.
GOOD OL’ ZECHARIAH
When the relatives understand that Elizabeth is not open-minded to their suggestion, they do what all children do when they don’t get the answer from Parent #1 they are looking for; namely, they roll their eyes and go immediately to Parent #2. So they go to Zechariah and try to sway him.
I imagine Zechariah was a chastened man after having been dumbstruck by the angel Gabriel. After nine months of silence, I’m sure he learns his lesson well. In fact, he does, because once the crowd tries to pressure him to please the family whims, he simply writes:
His name is John.
. . .and his tongue is released. From disbelief to simple obedience, Zechariah—even in his old age—spiritually grows up. I like to imagine Gabriel looking down from heaven saying to the other angels: See, you can teach an old dog new tricks!
And, as we often see in New Testament narratives, when the Holy Spirit moves, people are amazed. Suddenly Zechariah feels blood in his vocal cords and he begins to speak. Now if it had been you or me, don’t you think our first words would have been something simple and slightly ridiculous? I don’t know about you, but I would have said something like, “Hey, hear that? I got my voice back! Thank God I can get rid of this stupid writing tablet!” But Zechariah was not only a mature man, but a mature soul, and the breath that passes over his vocal cords is not his own, but that breath of God we know as the Holy Spirit. That Holy Spirit fills his lungs and his heart, and Zechariah’s first utterance is an inspired song. Yes, like Elizabeth and Mary before him, he steps to front-and-center stage as the orchestra swells into the intro—and he sings a prophetic poem that launches his new son on the path God destines for him.
Blessed, Blessed, Blessed!
Blessed is the Lord God,
Who loves and saves His people!
He sends His promised Messiah
Exactly as the prophets sang about,
We shall be delivered
From all hatred and fear.
The Lord keeps his promises—
His ancient, ancient promises
From the beginning of time!
We shall soon be delivered,
Freed from sin to know Him,
love Him and serve Him as
His beloved children!
And you, my little son John,
Shall prepare his path,
Preaching repentance and the
Forgiveness of sins, for God
Is saving all His people!
The morning is coming—
The one, true morning of the world—
And when the Sun rises, God’s light
Shall shine and awaken all things
And his glory will be forever
And darkness will be no more, no more!
WE ARE ALL ZECHARIAH
Zechariah is our model of faithfulness this Advent day for three reasons:
1. He sacrifices personal honor within his professional community of priests in his prophetic role. This is always true of prophets: they don’t serve the established institution; they serve the will and Word of God. This is true throughout Christian history and today as well.
We learn from Martin Luther that conscience is more important than ecclesiastical authority. Let’s face it: Christians who go along with a church institution when it is clearly in the wrong—simply because it is a church—denies the higher calling from the Holy Spirit. We are not called to serve church, congregation, or denomination, but to serve Christ. By far, the best thing you and I can do for church, congregation, and denomination is to serve Christ unswervingly. Zechariah models this for us, even though we can think he would have preferred it otherwise.
2. He overcomes the temptation to please his neighbors and relatives. Peer pressure is one thing, but when you add relatives to the mix, you face a force that affects your sense of self to the core. Zechariah models faithfulness—as does Elizabeth—by sticking to the plan in naming their son John.
3. He responds to the work of God with praise. Once the Lord has brought all things to their fulfillment, Zechariah does not respond with astonishment or amazement, but with praise that is as elaborate as it is sweet. Gratitude—deep gratitude—is always the right response to grace. God gives us grace and we seek to return the glory back to him—that is the relationship we call faith.
May our faith, this Christmas and beyond, take its cue from Zechariah such that we serve the will and Word of God.
May we share in His work by simple obedience despite all temptations and worldly pressures, and when we see God’s glorious work in our midst, may our gratitude run as deep, and our praises to Him be sweet, profound, and abiding in all truth and Spirit from the Heart. †
The Songs of Elizabeth and Mary
TEXT: Luke 1: 39-56
BURSTING FORTH IN SONG
While I’m not much a fan of musicals, I can say there are a few I like. Godspell, Jesus Christ Superstar, Music Man, South Pacific: that’s about it. In high school, I performed in both Music Man and South Pacific, which is probably why they made the list at all.
It’s not that I’m anti-musicals, it’s just my own problem. I grew up in a family that shunned all things corny or cornball. If I were watching a movie and suddenly heard that cue—the background music beginning to swell, and the main actor sweeping forward, taking a deep breath—I would roll my eyes and curl up in my theater chair with my hands over my head. Either that or quickly change the channel, as in Quickly! Change the channel right now! I think I would sooner volunteer to change diapers at a state retirement facility than sit through either Rent or Chicago again.
I don’t consider this as something wrong with musicals, but something in myself. It’s my own shortcoming that I don’t appreciate them. So it is a bit of an irony how important that musical moment is to understanding our text today.
Bursting forth in song is exactly what happens when the Holy Spirit strikes people in Luke’s gospel.
Two women who ought not to be pregnant—Elizabeth and Mary—Elizabeth because she is old and Mary because she’s still a virgin—these two are today’s performers. Mary enters Elizabeth’s house, and the Holy Spirit—who was promised to be in John even while within Elizabeth’s womb—moves her up front and center while the other lights dim and the music swells from beneath:
Blessed, Blessed, Blessed!
Blessed are you among women,
Blessed is the fruit of your womb.
And why should this happen to me,
that the mother of my Lord comes to me?
From the moment I heard the sound of your greeting,
the child in my womb leaped for joy.
Blessed, Blessed, Blessed!
Blessed is she who knew, knew, knew
That the Lord would surely come through, through, through.
Yes, this is a song—at least, it is exalted speech. When the Holy Spirit descends, the result is something like song, something like a Shakespearean sonnet, something extraordinary, marvelous, true, and good.
But this is not an aria but a duet, for Mary steps into the spotlight and responds:
My soul magnifies the Lord,
My spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
He looks with love on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, surely, surely,
All generations, from now to eternity
will call me blessed, blessed, blessed!
To God be the glory, great things he has done
Holy, holy, holy—holy is his name.
From generation to generation, from age to age
God’s mercies are shown to all who revere his name.
He has answered our humble prayers
He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the greedy and raised up the lowly;
He has filled the hungry children with warmth and good food, and left the worldly materialists to wallow in wealth—
Full-bellied but empty and never satisfied.
He has lifted his servant Israel from years of anguish,
For God keeps his promises and always comes
Through, through, through.
These are songs, exalted utterances that burst forth as the Holy Spirit touches them.
TONGUES REDEFINED?
But to call these songs makes light of them, for they are more than songs; they are prophecy every bit as much as the utterances of Isaiah, Ezekiel, or Daniel. The Holy Spirit spoke through the prophets in just this same way.
Fifty times in the book of Ezekiel, we read:
“The word of the Lord came to me.”
Luke shows us the end of the Old Testament prophecy as the Holy Spirit speaks through Elizabeth, Mary, Zechariah (next week), and finally through John the Baptist. John the Baptist will be the final prophet. Why final? Because even though we are reading the New Testament, we are still in Old Testament mode—we are still Before Christ—and after Christ comes, everything changes.
All prophecy points toward Christ. There is no prophecy that matters that doesn’t point to Jesus. With the appearance of Christ, all prophecy is fulfilled and completed, so instead of prophecy, the New Testament church takes on a new task—proclaiming Jesus.
The gift of prophecy and the work of the Holy Spirit are one and the same: pointing all things and everyone toward Christ. That’s it. Prophecy is not about predicting the future, except to say that Jesus Christ is there.
Remember, this Luke is the same Luke who tells us about Pentecost—the birth of the Church—and he writes in our text today about how the Holy Spirit prompts people to speak. Question: What if Luke is showing us what tongues really looks like? What if the gift of speaking in tongues is not sacred gibberish(as in pagan Corinth and for which Paul issued many corrections) but rather this exalted, elegant speech?
Perhaps speaking in tongues is not a mysterious, nonsensical language, but a mysterious song-like utterance? Ordinary people like Mary from Nazareth and several Galilean fisherman go from being tongue-tied and hesitant to remarkably bold and articulate?
In Acts 2, what does Luke tell us about how the Holy Spirit speaks? For one, the Disciples spoke in languages that were clearly intelligible in the worldly sense. Secondly, I would encourage you re-read Peter’s first sermon, which seems to burst forth from him like a song. It is the first Christian sermon and it is magnificent, just like Elizabeth and Mary’s utterances.
What if this is tongues? What if the Church was born and spread not with dry, academic prose, but this whole fresh-utterance-in-the-Spirit thing? I highly expect this is what Luke is demonstrating to us—that tongues, at least in Jerusalem, consisted of the Holy Spirit giving people words and expressions they had no worldly reason to utter.
THE RIGHT WORDS
Haven’t we had moments when we actually had the right words?
Because we’re modest, we don’t talk much about these moments; we’re more inclined to tell stories of times we didn’t know what to say—our moments of being struck mute or dumbfounded—or the times we wish we had a real zinger but couldn’t think of one until a few days later. We all have those stories.
But haven’t you had those moments when you were put right into the thick of things—a critical moment for yourself or someone you love—when you spoke truth from the heart and it changed everything?
—A time when you found confidence and heart to say unfailingly, unflinchingly, what really and truly needed to be said? Perhaps at that moment you had no idea that what you were saying mattered or would have any significance in the long run, but it later turned out to be a soul-saver, either for someone else or for even for yourself?
I think it may be a misnomer for us to say things like “I found the words” or “I centered myself” and truer for us to say, “the words just came to me,” or “it came to me,” for that is exactly how the Holy Spirit works. He comes to us. He speaks through us just as he spoke through the prophets. He just gives us the words in the moment we need them when we trust in him.
Jesus tells us:
When they bring you before the synagogues, the rulers, and the authorities, do not worry about how you are to defend yourselves or what you are to say; 12 for the Holy Spirit will teach you at that very hour what you ought to say. —Luke 12: 11-12
We need to trust in the Holy Spirit who can and will give us what we need to say.
We need to work out of our hearts with all integrity, truth, and confidence in him.
Such resistance to sharing faith because we are so afraid of being dumbstruck in a key moment. We feel so untrained, unprofessional, incomplete, or unworthy of the task. We remember all those moments when we didn’t know what to say and think that is what will happen and we’ll let down not ourselves, but God! Who would risk such a thing?
I’ve had people say, “Noel, I wish I had your education and knowledge of the Bible for those moments!” but I tell you that all of my experience and theological study add up to nearly nothing when it come to those moments. I, like you, worry about being dumbstruck, not having the right words, and/or running the risk of shaming the faith, but I also know that the Spirit always comes through. The Holy Spirit not only wants to make us better Christians, but God want to reach others through us. He won’t let that work fail, though we might. He is at work through us and we have to trust that he is there whenever needed. Just trust.
This is why we don’t “pitch” Jesus as though we were selling soap. We don’t memorize proposals or gospel approaches. We don’t follow carefully-written prescriptions for soul-saving. We can, do, and ought to memorize Scripture, but that’s not the same thing. When we reduce other people to “lost souls to be found with our help” we insult the Spirit. When we memorize gospel pitches or think we need to force-feed them along the Roman Road, we communicate something dangerous; namely, that we don’t trust the Spirit to follow through on his promise to give us the words!
We want security. We want comfort. We want to know that we will have the right words, so we memorize someone else’s words and hope it works. Wrong! We can do better and must to better. Let us agree that the best evangelism we can possibly enact is that kind wherein we honestly acknowledge our unworthiness of the gospel and our feelings of utter ineptitude before the task.
Unlike Zechariah, we do not count on our training to equip us for the encounter. Like Elizabeth and Mary, we are humble and lowly before the Lord. We too wait on the Spirit for fulfillment. We, like them, can expect the unexpected. When it comes, we may wonder at it, but our response should be as Mary says:
“Lord, let it be with me according to your word.”
PROPHETS OF THE SEASON
Perhaps you have family coming home for Christmas. Maybe you’re estranged from certain parts of your family. You may have children, grandchildren, cousins, or siblings who think the whole God thing is a crock. I imagine you may feel stress over coming confrontations.
People will say things that can make you uncomfortable—to make you feel like a phony or a self-righteous saint.
Don’t sweat it. Your Lord says, “Fear not, for I am with you. Worry not, for I will give you the words.”
Relax. Preoccupy yourself with love. The right words will come; just trust. †
Zechariah Fumbles
TEXT: Luke 1: 5-24
The Priesthood
Twenty-four orders of priests took their turns through the year serving the temple and fulfilling priestly duties. The Order of Abijah, of which Zechariah was a member, stood eighth among the twenty-four. His team served the temple in late spring and late autumn, one week each term.
Their role was to offer incense in the sanctuary of the Temple. This was a room within the temple where the menorah, incense altar, table for the show bread, etc. The sanctuary is not the Holy of Holies, which was up a set of steps behind a large curtain. Inside the Holy of Holies was the Ark of the Covenant.
The priest’s role in offering incense involved taking coals from the morning animal sacrifice, which took place outside in the court of the priests, and carrying them into the sanctuary with some incense, that was offered there in accordance to the Law.
Everything had to be just so. The way things were carried, the way they were applied, who, when, how—every aspect was prescribed by Torah and priestly code. There was no room for variation and no tolerance for error. The priest among the team who would serve the incense was chosen by lot.
This year the job fell to Zechariah. It was a high, high honor, for this was no arbitrary choice, this was God’s selection through the lot. The Jews did not believe in chance, they believed in God’s Providence. God’s choice was made through the casting of the lots. For a moment, Zechariah will be among the highest, holiest men in all of Judaism. It’s his big year.
In your life and my life, what is it you work toward? Is there a pinnacle for your profession or a personal goal? A brass ring worth going for? Maybe it’s something in your family—something you aspire to with your children or for them. In our very nature God has planted drive. We have motivations and intentions of which we may not even be aware. And for that thing we’ve always wanted or worked toward we defend ourselves—or we have built up defense mechanisms: Denial, humor, anger—any of these can guard our hearts while thwarting our true drive.
I expect Zechariah had been looking forward to this most of his life—the chance to be one of the inside insiders of the Temple for two weeks. To him, this was arriving and the pinnacle of his life as a Levite. For Zechariah, this was winning the lottery, but only in part.
Barrenness
Zechariah had another dream. Zechariah’s wife Elizabeth—a Godly woman from a priestly family—was unable to have children. This was not only an inconvenience in those days, but a blight. The birth of children is seen scripturally as one of this life’s greatest blessings, and barrenness associated with the withholding of God’s favor. To be childless was to be pitied, and for women it was a source of personal shame, because back then they pretty much believed it was the woman’s fault, not the man’s, for infertility. Furthermore, the text says they were “getting on in years” which means that whatever hopes they had been holding out for a miracle were slipping away.
When we’re young, don’t we all look forward into life and imagine those future chapters to be jam-packed with fulfillment and glory? When find ourselves in the late chapters of life, do we begin to wonder at how differently Chapter 18 looks and feels than you imagined it would when you were twenty?
All of us, like Elizabeth and Zechariah, wrestle with variations on barrenness. The longing to be fulfilled and fruitful is universal, even if that fruit is something other than literal children.
Glory
Back to the temple. Everything had to be just so; the ritual was well-prescribed and the priests were perfectly on top of it all. Zechariah, perhaps an old hand at this incense work, makes his way in while the priests and the people pray.
But as he goes into the sanctuary, he sees an angel beside the incense altar, and he is, like all who see angels, terrified and overwhelmed. It’s a very holy place, but that doesn’t mean you would actually expect to see something holy happen. Bit of an irony, don’t you think?
What would be our response if an angel suddenly appeared here? Imagine a large, winged creature suddenly blasting into place floating here in the air, shining in indescribable light and color. I think the most pious and calmest among us would still be shaking in our boots.
Fear
For all our service of glory, when glory comes, it’s more than we count on. What is truly good may be every bit as terrifying to us small humans as something tremendously evil.
So the angel says what angels always say: Easy! Don’t be scared! It’s alright!
“Good news, Zechariah, you’re going to have son and you must name him John. He will be a great prophet in the spirit of Elijah, and the Holy Spirit will work through him even in his mother’s womb.”
Translation: You’ve won the Powerball.
Irony
verse 18 :
Zechariah said to the angel, "How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years."
How amazing, this Zechariah, who can go from fear and trembling one second to face-to-face doubt?
Most of us are willing to believe that God will do what He says He’ll do only because it’s written in scripture, but here, the highest holiest man of Israel gets his promises straight from the mouth of an angel in the sanctuary of the temple and says, But can I really believe you? After all, we’re both too old to have children.
Now it’s bad enough that he doesn’t take the word of an angel and just say something like “Praise God, thank you, God is good, etc.” but worse because he should’ve known better.
How many times had Zechariah heard the story of Abraham and Sarah, who in old age received God’s promise for children? Certainly he remembered that Isaac means laughter because Sarah laughed when she heard she would bear a son in old age.
Surely Zechariah grieved at the story of Israel—how The Lord helped them and appeared to them again and again to rescue them from themselves and provide hope in hopeless situations—he must have wondered how the Israelites could remain faithless when God had done so much for them again and again.
And yet here he is, like the picture of Abraham himself, promised a son, only Zechariah questioning the authority of the message! Zechariah, for the moment the holiest man in Israel face to face with an angel but not believing, not trusting. He is the very picture of 2nd Temple Judaism in a single man! Content and secure in his own practices and the traditions that had been handed down. Everything was just so, and God’s own messenger was simply getting in the way, messing up the good thing they had so well-organized.
Are people of faith any different today? We get things “just so” and come to trust in our own routines such that even an angel couldn’t put us off course.
Well Zechariah gets his answer:
19 The angel replied, "I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. 20 But now, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time, you will become mute, unable to speak, until the day these things occur."
It’s better than he deserves, isn’t it?
Because the ritual of incense is just so, the priests in the court outside the sanctuary know exactly how long it takes a man—even an old man—the light the incense and get back out of there. Zechariah is slow in returning. The priests, while still singing, start looking at each other: making eye contact, raising their eyebrows, shrugging, pointing at their watches.
Then out comes Zechariah with his eyes wide open, a face like he has seen an angel, and perhaps still a bit frightened over the angel’s curse. The other priests immediately rush up to him, crowd around him and demand “What happened?” and he surely looks like he has a story to tell.
They get quiet to hear him, he takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, and out comes nothing but a pathetic little squeak. What!? the priests say as they crowd around to hear, but no luck.
I imagine Zechariah pointing to his throat and then making big wings pantomime, turning the court of the priests into an anxious fruitless game of charades.
DUMBSTRUCK
The high and mighty high priest is dumbstruck once he encounters the holiness of God. We too should be dumbstuck. What makes us think that if an angel were to appear to you or me, that we would feel comforted? Wouldn’t we too feel dumbstruck and fearful for our lives and souls?
“Oh, but I walk so closely with the Lord! I wouldn’t be frightened!” So fails our imagination. We so underestimate God and so overestimate our own favored status that a real encounter in the flesh would likely unmake any of us.
Annie Dillard, in Holy the Firm, states the matter clearly:
“On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return. ”
God is not tame. God may not be nice in the way we think of things. In the old Christian literature he is called “terrible” in the sense of “terribly good.” We may think of ourselves as good, justified, sanctified brothers and sisters in Christ, but we are birthed, grown, and raised in sin. When that which is truly holy appears, I believe we too will be utterly
As Holy, high and mighty as Zechariah was, he found his encounter with the Lord a terrifying ordeal, and although his name means “God has remembered,” Zechariah seems to have completely forgotten the purpose of this holy service.
Until he obeys, his mouth remains shut.
God has indeed remembered—specifically, he has remembered his promises. As the first Zechariah, the prophet, proclaimed the coming Messiah, so the second Zechariah receives the good news of that promise’s fulfillment.
AT THE TABLE
Coming to the table is our remembering. What we remember is that God always remembers his promises. Every promise will be fulfilled, without exception.
We live by those promises and we remember them all as Christ has given himself for us—and gives himself for us—in this sacrament.
Beneath all of our other drives is the drive for fulfillment. We are wise if we learn, as early as possible, that nothing in us or in this world can fulfill us other than the Holy Spirit of God.
No matter what you accomplish, mow much you acquire, and/or how perfect your kids are, there is ultimately no fulfillment outside of a life-giving relationship with God through Jesus Christ.
Beware. We may know the ritual, we may have it well-rehearsed, but we may at any moment be dumbstruck, because God who is not tame may at any moment appear. †