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But the angel said unto him, Fear not, Zacharias: for thy prayer is heard; and thy wife Elisabeth shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John . . . And Zacharias said unto the angel, Whereby shall I know this? for I am an old man, and my wife well stricken in years. And the angel answering said unto him, . . . And, behold, thou shalt be dumb, and not able to speak, until the day that these things shall be performed, because thou believest not my words, which shall be fulfilled in their season . . . And after those days his wife Elisabeth conceived, . . . and she brought forth a son. (Luke 1:1-57)
John the Baptist’s Father
Like Zechariah of old I had looked
for the coming, but he saw more clearly
than I.
How many prophets have spoken? We
as a people had waited so long that
only the waiting had meaning. Birds
in a dark cage cannot be sent
all at once into bright light. The sun
and a fury of blind wings. Glad hope
overcome by terror
of strangeness.
The weariness of belief made me doubt. Always
events lay in the future, beyond
reality’s touch. How was I to know, at that moment,
what could be true?
My heart leapt, but the mind
would not yield. Like
a long-barren woman, now blest
with small life within. Terror
of hope itself: Thoughts
refusing to grasp what
the heart already knows.
Song hovers just
out of reach, notes too fragile
to break through trembling lips.
I have had much time
for thought these past months, watching
her delight, her wonder,
and fear. The prophet
would have believed
as she has; as her cousin, who
only asked how God
would do it, did not doubt
that He would.
We old men also can learn.
The kingdom of God is upon
us, this much I
have grasped: The child
is not mine. We have
waited so long and have
so much to give,
so much to tell, but already
I know.
We cannot hold him, will not
understand all he does. I pray
God give us strength
to let him go to his future
with unclipped wings, sure
and strong in the sun.