Just to prove I'm writing the book again. :-)
I am writing something on it everyday, even if it is only one sentence.
It is interesting, as I write the Bible becomes much more real to me. Imagining and writing each scene seems to make it more concrete in my mind.
*****
As the incense began to billow
out of the censor Zachariah closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He loved the
smell of this mixture, sweet yet savoury, it enfolded him and reminded him of
the many facets of his God’s character. For several moments he savoured the
smell while he sent his personal prayers heavenwards. He prayed for the
redemption of Israel, that the prophecies of the ancients would be fulfilled
soon, that the Messiah would come soon.
Prayer finished, Zachariah
opened his eyes and realised he was not alone. A being stood to the right of
the alter, an angel, male in appearance but taller than any man, fiery
bright, solemn in expression. Fear gripped Zachariah, talons of terror piercing
his heart as he became aware of his own unworthiness to be this close to a
servant of the Most High God. Joyfully the elemental spoke, the tone of his
voice betraying the solemn expression of his face. “Fear not, Zachariah: for
your prayer is heard; and your wife Elisabeth will give you a son, and you will
give him the name John. You will be joyful and glad; and many many people will
rejoice because of his birth. For he shall be great in the sight of the Lord,
and shall drink neither wine nor strong drink; and he shall be filled with the
Holy Ghost. And many of the children of Israel will turn back to the Lord their
God because of him. And he shall go before the Messiah in the spirit and power of
Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient
to the wisdom of the just; to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”
Zachariah’s thoughts reeled, he
would have a son? Now in his 75th year? Elizabeth was 71, she hadn’t
had her courses in many years, it was impossible! Without filtering his
thoughts he blurted them out, “How shall I know this is true? I am an old man,
and my wife is well past the age of child bearing." The Angel smiled,
a little sadly. “I am Gabrielle, I stand in the presence of The Father, I was sent
to tell you this good news, and because you did not believe you will be silent
until the child is born. This is your sign that what I say will come to pass in
its proper time.” The angel, Gabrielle, shimmered and disappeared, leaving
the room somehow darker because of his absence.
Zachariah stood at the altar, head
bowed, censor hanging limply from his hand. Silently he prayed for himself. He
asked for forgiveness for not believing the angel's, Gabrielle’s, words. He
asked for strength for Elizabeth to endure her pregnancy at her advanced age,
and he asked for wisdom in rearing the child, John. He smiled at the thought,
now the child was as real in his mind as if it had already been born. John, the
Proclaimer. The fulfilment of the prophecy that said the Messiah would have a forerunner
to announce him. His son, John. Zachariah was filled with a holy, fierce joy.
The Messiah must be born soon too. It was almost over. Soon Israel would be free.
He stood there silently contemplating, joyfully sending up prayers of thanks
and love to his God.
******
The worshipers outside the
temple were restless, a common theme was rustling through the crowd, “Zachariah has been in there too long.” “Something must have
happened.” “Maybe he did not cleanse himself properly before he entered the
chamber.” “God may have struck him dead.” Speculation ran rife through the
assembled worshipers. And then, just as the priests were assembling to draw
lots again to see who would go in to bring out Zachariah’s body, the door
opened and the priest emerged, his face shinning like the sun, the crowd fell
silent.
******
Zachariah could
hear the murmurs of the crowd as he opened the door, he could guess what they
were thinking, he had been in the Holy Place much longer than was customary. He
looked out over the crowd, they fell silent as they looked at him, and then the
murmuring started again, questions, comments. “Why were you so long?” “What
happened?” “Your face, it glows.” “God must have sent him a vision.”
Zachariah gestured
with his hands, making the motions of writing. He tried to speak, he knew
nothing would come of it, but he needed to demonstrate his inability to the assembled
people. Quickly someone realised his dilemma, “He can’t speak.” The words
rippled through the crowd from one person to the next, the people fell back from
him, distancing themselves from God’s judgement. Zachariah heard them as they
reasoned through his condition, voicing their logic to each other. “His face,
it shines." "He has seen a vision.” “He can’t speak, God has cursed him.” “He's still alive, so God must have forgiven him." "He must have God’s favour.” “What
happened?” “There has not been a communication from God for four hundred years …”
that speaker trailed off in either awe or unbelief, Zachariah was not sure
which.
*****
Someone sent
for the High Priest, an encounter with The God of the nation; that was
something the High Priest should know about. Someone else found parchment, a
quill and a pot of ink. A writing tray soon appeared and was presented to Zachariah.
As rumour flowed out of the temple and into the city the crowd grew in size, people
came eager, afraid, curious, to find out what had transpired. Soon Zachariah
found himself sitting on the floor of the temple, back leaning against the door
he had so recently emerged from, writing down his encounter with the angel,
Gabrielle, the Servant of the Most High God. The High
Priest arrived and stood over him, reading as he wrote, sentence by sentence, to
the now silent people. They listened in an attitude of reverence as the High
Priest read. The Almighty God had spoken to the Priest Zachariah.
