Advent 2  Year of St Luke (C)  Benedictus

A good saying, bene-dictus, blessed Adventide!   Merry Four Fir-circled Weeks!   It doesn’t get said much.  No cards to carry Zeck’s waiting silent face or Elizabeth’s bulging joy.  No one arranges a small model first century Temple with a tiny plastic priest holding a match-tip size bit of incense to burn.  “He spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old that we would be saved….”  But of course, now the greeting is not seasonal holiday sounds but the mute wait of one whose child will be the last of the old prophets and the first of the new forth-tellers.  When the priest took in hand to write, to the witnesses’ astonishment, Zechariah perhaps inscribed the very first words—“His name is John”— of the New Testament canon.

Go before the Child, children, and say the good as in God the Most High and evangel-news and tender mercy and forgiveness.  Nights seem more powerful in the northern days of December, lengthening to their limit and allowing seasonal displays to feature our creativity in the face of our fear of mortality.  But each day is a dawn of God breaking upon us, guiding our feet into the way of peace.  Burn the incense, write, speak…