0214 THE MUTE BUTTON

THE MUTE BUTTON

Luke was not one of the twelve disciples, unlike Matthew and John. And he was not mentioned as often as Mark. Like Matthew and Mark, the gospel that Luke wrote is considered a “synoptic gospel” (John’s gospel is more theological and topical, rather than chronological and historical). Even if that’s all that Luke contributed to the accounts of Jesus, it would have been valuable, for God set a standard that “at the mouth of two or three witnesses every matter should be established.”

But Luke’s gospel has some unique characteristics that make it stand alone. First, though Luke was not a personal eyewitness to most of the ministry of Jesus, Luke was a careful historian who researched and interviewed eyewitnesses and put his account in order. Luke then wrote a second volume of history, beginning after the resurrection, a book known as the Acts of the Apostles (the book of Acts). Second, Luke spent a lot of time traveling with the apostle Paul. So, just as we might consider the gospel of Mark to be the book of Peter, in the same way we might consider Luke’s gospel to be the book of Paul. And third, we know from elsewhere that Luke was the “beloved physician,” according to Paul. So it has a certain level of scholastic care, and is the longest of the four gospels (in number of words, not number of chapters).

There is one more aspect of Luke’s writing that marks it as special: Luke focuses often on the ethical teachings of Jesus, at least a bit more than the other writers do. 

So, let’s dive in!

Luke addresses his reader by name: “most excellent Theophilus.” Perhaps Theophilus was a real person. Maybe a patron who asked Luke to tell him a complete account so that he could sort through rumors and legends and know the true facts. On the other hand, the name Theophilus means “Lover of God.” So Luke may be saying that he is writing to any inquirer who loves God and wants to know about Jesus.

In any case, the purpose of Luke’s gospel remains the same. As he says it, 

Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught.

Have you wanted to “have certainty concerning the things you have been taught?” I certainly have. Jesus lived a long time ago, and many of the stories about him are beyond my ordinary experiences. So I rely on Luke to provide several details of the gospel that are not recorded in other accounts. For example, while Mark begins with John the Baptist, Luke begins with the story of John’s amazing parents, Zechariah and Elizabeth, including what happened in the fifth and sixth months of Elizabeth’s pregnancy

 

Every year, Zechh would hobble into the temple courts a little more slowly and a bit more hunched to check in at the front desk. “Shalom, Rabbi Zechariah,” said the young man behind the counter, rising to his feet with a mixture of reverence and pity. The old man enters alone—again, ready to do his part in the worship of Almighty God, but with no son or grandson or great-grandsons to apprentice into the ways of the priesthood. 

The man’s peers had all been replaced by a younger generation or two, would come to serve with an entourage of perhaps twenty sons and grandsons, all serving or in training under the watchful eye of their own patriarch. But if Old Zechh was experiencing legacy envy, he never let on. The young man assigned to the desk each time wondered if maybe this would be the last time that he would see the old saint.

Of course, Zechh had been in the system since B.C., so everyone knew him. He was kind of a legend, really. 

Zechariah had spent his first twenty years studying, and then spent his twenties as an apprentice under his father. He had then served in the temple for thirty years. And now, here it was fifty years later, his father long gone, and whenever Zechariah came to Jerusalem to serve in the temple, the other priests would gather around, as if for story time, to hear what it was like in the bad old days. 

According to the Lord’s own directions for priests, when they turned 50, they shifted from being “doers” to become “teachers” of the next generation. Of course, the young priests they were training were their own sons, who would be turning 30 about the time their father turned 50. The elder priest passed along the carefully-honed traditions, motions, rites and prayers. Zechariah was especially helpful  in the training of the younger generation because he had been there for the transition of the defiled temple to the new edifice. Zechariah was one of the ones who had been serving through those years, and so he was using his consulting years to remind the younger priests of what it had been before—what it had always been. 

And yet, Zechariah had no sons, not even one, to walk in his steps and pass on his important acts of service and worship to the Lord. It was a deep source of disappointment, perhaps even bitterness or shame, to the old man. And here he was, having drawn the lot to serve again. Since he had no son to serve with, or to go in his stead, he had no cloud of witnesses, no team of workers of his own progeny, he was himself doing the greatest honor that a priest could have: he was maintaining the incense in the Holy Place itself. 

The room of the Holy Place was reserved to be seen by only one priest a day, and it was a place that was, well, holy—separated. So you didn’t just go walking casually in, as if you belonged. There in the newly-expanded temple were huge, imposing doors, perhaps 45 feet high and covered with gold. In the Holy Place, the room was perhaps 40 feet deep and 20 feet wide, and the ceiling was 60 feet high, with all walls covered in gold.

There were memorized prayers you recited as you did the work. To the left, he would trim the wicks on the menorah, which  created a slightly shimmering golden glow to fill the room with a warm glow.

Next, he would turn to the opposite wall and replace the twelve loaves of unleavened bread. 

At the back of the room, against the three-story-tall curtain that separates the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place, is the golden altar of incense. He would clean out the coals and add new ones, and then more of the special formula of incense scooped on top. 

The incense symbolized the presence of God from the Tabernacle, which looked like a cloud by day and fire by night. It also represented the prayers of the people rising up to the throne.

The incense was seen by the priests as being, or at least representing, the very presence of God itself. The incense at the altar also represented the prayers of the people, as they would rise before the Lord. Petitions for prosperity and peace, requests for healing and deliverance, pleas for the nation to experience the establishment of the kingdom of God in this very place. And, perhaps, one last, desperate cry for a son to follow in his steps.

And suddenly, there in the darkened holy space was a bright light and a—Being of Imposing Carriage—speaking from God to Zechariah himself, directly, one on one. The Almighty One was answering all of those prayers that were being lifted up before Him, all in one single answer! Healing, peace, kingdom, deliverance, and even an heir for this lowly old individual man! It was too much to believe. Truly. Too much.

Zechariah had one last question. “How shall I know this for certain?” And then he was put on mute until it had been fulfilled.

Just goes to show: never doubt an angel.