Nov 30, 2021
In the time of Herod king of Judea there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly division of Abijah; his wife Elizabeth was also a descendant of Aaron. Both of them were righteous in the sight of God, observing all the Lord’s commands and decrees blamelessly. But they were childless because Elizabeth was not able to conceive, and they were both very old. (Luke 1:5-7)
One of the most significant threads of Old Testament Israel gets picked up here by Luke in the opening verses of his Gospel. It is an early and important indication of why Jesus came. And, perhaps surprisingly: it isn’t about sin. It’s about death.
When we think of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, we think: salvation from sin. But the Gospel is bigger and richer than that. Throughout the Old Testament, and especially through the early books, the major threat is not sin, but death.
The Creational blessing and command given by God to humanity in Genesis 1 is “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it.” This Creational, life-generating fruitfulness humanity has been entrusted with is immediately placed under threat, however.
Adam and Eve are not to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil because if they do, they will die, and indeed death becomes their punishment. Through them, death becomes a threat to the command and design of Creation: not only for human life, but for plant and animal life as well. The ground is cursed. Animals die to make skins for the man and woman.
Death remains a threat throughout the Old Testament account. God promises Abraham that he will make him fruitful and multiply his descendants until they become a great nation. It’s a promise of Creation’s intent, fulfilled. But this time God himself takes the reigns as he offers his promise to Abraham. But Sarah is barren, and both of them are very old. Death looms over the narrative as an ever-present threat.
The same goes for Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel, Joseph, the Israelites under the threat of Pharoah, and Israel again under the threat of the wilderness. Constantly again and again death hangs over the stories of the Old Testament, reminding us again and again that if it were not for the grace of God intervening in promise, redemption, and life: death would surely be our end.
There’s another thread here too, though. In some of the wisdom books of the Old Testament, like Proverbs, there is a cut and dried ethic: if you’re righteous, you’ll be blessed. If you’re wicked, you’ll be cursed. But it’s not always so cut and dried (as other wisdom books, like Job and Ecclesiastes, recognize). What about the Zechariahs and Elizabeths of the world? They were both upright and righteous people: so why had they not been blessed? Why were they not fruitful?
Our story is set right smack in the middle of these Old Testament troubles: death looms over righteous people who did everything right. They long for the life and blessing from the Lord they were Created to have and to bring. It’s not a question of sin: they are blameless. It’s about death. Death has come for them anyway: stealing away their fertility and their youth.
I can think of so many of our own stories that death looms over in just this way, undeserved. Miscarriages, infertility, separations, illness, accidents, addictions, and death itself as loved ones are taken from us. Before we can rejoice, first Luke invites us to sit in the ash heap with the Old Testament people of God and cry out with them: How long, O Lord? How long?