It had all started about nine months before. Zechariah was married to Elizabeth. They didn’t have any children and, as Luke delicately words it, they were "getting on in years." Zechariah was a priest. He had been serving in the Temple when he received a visit from an angel. This visit in itself would have been enough to scare anyone. Luke tells us that Zechariah "was terrified and fear overwhelmed him."

As if the simple appearance of an angel was not enough, this divine messenger had a message for Zechariah – he was going to be a dad. Elizabeth, though she was "getting on in years," was going to have a son. At some point in the angel’s speech, Zechariah must have overcome his initial reaction of fear because he asked the angel how in the world this was going to happen. Zechariah didn’t believe that it could happen.

Well, it’s not always a good idea to talk back to angelic messengers. Because of Zechariah’s disbelief, the angel says he won’t be able to say another word until what the angel told him would happen, has happened. So Zechariah walks out of the Temple and can’t tell anyone what happened to him. He goes home to see Elizabeth and can’t speak for nine months while he watches the child grow within his wife for nine months.

By four months, even the most oblivious person must have known what was going on. Zechariah must have known that he and his wife were going to have a baby even though they were "getting on in years." But yet, his sentence of silence continues. Even when he can see with his own eyes the unmistakable pregnancy of his wife, the silence continues.

One summer when I was working at Montreat, I contracted an infection in my lungs and throat. I saw the doctor and was given antibiotics to take care of the cough and sore throat. But even with the medication, I couldn’t speak for about a week and a half. My job that summer was as a day camp counselor with the Pre-Kindies (children who would start Kindergarten in the fall).

I continued to work, even though I had no voice. I depended upon the other two counselors to take care of reading time and shouting when it was time to come in from the playground, but I continued to do the other parts of my job. I would play with the kids, help them tie their shoes, get snack time ready, hold their hands as we walked around the camp. The only thing was, I couldn’t talk.

One thing I noticed throughout this week and a half of not talking was how much more I listened. I listened to what others were saying without worrying what I would say in response. I listened to the birds as I walked home or the noise of children’s laughter drifting from the playground. I found that I also listened to myself a whole lot more. I was more in tune with what I needed and was surprised to notice how little I had listened to myself before.

Then, one day about a week and a half later, I woke up and had my voice back. It was a little creaky from lack of use but it was there. When I went into work that morning, I was sitting waiting for the kids to arrive. Anna, one girl who was with us for the whole summer, walked in and sat on my lap. "Good Morning, Miss Emily," she said. "Good Morning, Anna," I replied. Her eyes got big and a smile leapt onto her face. "You can talk! It had been so long I forgot what you sounded like!" she exclaimed.

Even though I had my voice back, it was not quite the same as it was before. I was not the same. I had listened and heard things that I had talked over before. While my voice was gone, a transformation had happened inside me. Talking and laughing, singing and shouting had mattered so much for me. But during my time of silence, when all the world around me continued to talk and laugh, sing and shout, listening and thinking, pondering and seeing had become my anchor.

In the years since this incident, I’ve lost my voice for a day or two a few times. I think during those times that it’s rather inconvenient to not have a voice. But, perhaps, I think to myself, God is reminding me that speaking isn’t all there is to life.

Sometimes God has something to say through us. During Zechariah’s months of silence, God was working a transformation in him as well. Not only was a child growing in Elizabeth’s womb but something was growing within Zechariah as well.

When our scripture reading for today begins, eight days have passed since Zechariah had seen with his own eyes that Elizabeth had given birth to a son. The angel had said that Zechariah’s sentence of silence would pass once everything that had been promised had been fulfilled. But still eight days later, Zechariah’s lips were still sealed.

It’s only when he writes the words, "His name is John" that Zechariah is free to speak. But the Zechariah who speaks this prophecy is a far different Zechariah than the one who talked back to the angel nine months ago. Gone is the old curmudgeon. Here is a joyful father. Zechariah, who received a divine message, now gives a divine message. Zechariah who has been quiet for nine months has something to say – a promise from God.

This message from God – this promise – is all about God’s faithfulness and the events that are to come. Some books have introductions that tell you what will be discussed in the various chapters in the book. Zechariah’s prayer serves as such an introduction to the gospel. Zechariah says God has fulfilled God’s promise. John will be a prophet to prepare the way for the Lord. God’s light is coming.

It’s kind of like the overture of a musical or opera. You hear parts of the songs that will be sung. As the orchestra plays in the pit, the people in the audience take their seats and wait. When the orchestra goes into the overture, the curtain has not yet risen but you know it will soon and in the overture you get a hint of what will happen when it does.

Zechariah has endured nine months of silence. After following through on naming his child John as the angel instructed, he prays his overture to the gospel. From out of his silence comes music of promise to those with ears to hear.

The people have been sitting in darkness with the shadow of death surrounding them. Light is on the way.

God has raised up a Savior. We have been saved.

The prophets have spoken God’s promises. God has looked upon us with favor.

God shows mercy.

God has remembered.

And all of this has been done: so that we "might serve [God] without fear."

Fear…that would have been familiar to Zechariah. After all while he was serving in the Temple those nine months ago, he had seen the angel and "was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him." In the Temple, serving God, Zechariah was overwhelmed with fear. Now Zechariah prophesies that God has heard. Light is on the way and we can serve God without fear.

Sometimes silence is a fertile ground for fear. In a silent house, every creak can be a source of fear. In the silence of no reply, rejection is feared. In the silence before the doctor comes in with the test results, fear swims in our heads.

I can’t remember where I heard this or who said it: but a musician was talking about composing music. He said that making a beautiful and meaningful piece of music isn’t so much about which notes you put on the page as it is about the silence between the notes. It’s only because of the silence between the notes that the music makes sense.

From out of Zechariah’s time of silence, comes the music of God’s promise. Perhaps the times of silence in our life – those times when either we can’t talk or we feel as though God is not speaking to us – perhaps those times of silence are just the rests between the notes in God’s symphony. Perhaps God is transforming us in these times of silence so that when the time comes, we can sing with joy of promises fulfilled and salvation assured.

The opening notes have been played. Listen for God’s music playing in your life – the music of the notes of your life and the silence between the notes. And may God transform all of us through silence to sing songs of praise without fear.