“Elizabeth’s Story”

Based on Luke 1

Pastor Deb Troester, STHPC, November 30, 2025

First Sunday of Advent

Good morning! I am sorry – I am an old woman, not accustomed to addressing such a large crowd of people. I was asked to come here to tell you my story. It took place a long time ago.

I should introduce myself: my name is Elizabeth. It means “God’s promise,” but for a long time, I wasn’t sure if God really kept his promises or not. I married young, as is our custom, to a well-respected man, a priest named Zechariah. His was a position of great honor: he was responsible for performing sacrifices and prayers in the Temple in Jerusalem. I was privileged to be his bride and rejoiced at the prospect of bearing him many children. But, as the years went by, no children were born to us. I became disheartened and discouraged. Where was God’s promise to me and my husband? Zechariah still loved me faithfully, of course, but I knew he was also disappointed. Would he not have even a single son to follow in his footsteps in service to Jehovah in the Great Temple? The years passed. Zechariah and I grew old.

As the wife of a Temple priest, I lived comfortably, but I was not content. And I heard the whispers, “Elizabeth is barren. What sin did she commit? Perhaps she has been cursed.” And I thought, “Where is God? Doesn’t he see my unhappiness and disgrace? Where is God’s promise?”

When I was young, I had the hope of many a Jewish maiden: to be the mother of the Messiah. From days of old, our prophets spoke of one who was to come, to set his people free. Did not Isaiah foretell that a child would be born, who would be named “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace”?

But that was not to be – at least not for me. But, in my old age, God performed a miracle. This is how it happened. One day Zechariah was chosen by lot to offer incense at the altar in the sanctuary of the Temple. It was a huge honor. All the people were praying outside as my husband went in alone to burn the incense and to pray before the Lord on their behalf. But he was taking longer than usual. People were worried. Why was he taking so long? Had the incense refused to light?

Had he been struck dead by the Lord for some sin that made him unworthy? What could have happened? He was a aged man - had he simply fallen asleep while praying?

When he finally reappeared, he looked pale and shaken. Everyone wanted to know what had happened, but he could not speak. At first they thought he was just trying to gather his thoughts after re-emerging from the Holy Place. But then it became clear: he really could not speak, not even a word!

When he came home, I worried that maybe he had had a stroke, but everything else seemed normal. He ate normally, slept normally – all else was the same. Well, I did notice that he was kind and tender with me, as if this experience had made him fall in love with me again, as when we were young. But he could not speak.

A month or two after this strange event, I began to notice that I was putting on a bit of weight, and sometimes I didn’t feel too well in the morning. After three months passed, I dared to hope – was it possible that a person my age could be with child?

After the fourth month, I was sure, but I still didn’t tell anyone else, just in case it wasn’t true. After five months of secrecy, I finally shared the good news, I was finally going to be a mother! Everyone rejoiced at this seemingly miraculous pregnancy. God had finally heard my prayers. God had indeed fulfilled his promise.

Mine was not the only miraculous pregnancy in my family. A young cousin of mine, Mary, espoused to a man named Joseph, a carpenter in Nazareth, was also with child. Here is how I found out about it: I was sitting outside the house grinding barley for flour. It was afternoon and I was tired. I was six months pregnant, and my back hurt. As I looked out across the hills I saw a figure approaching – a young girl. When she got closer, she began to run toward me. She called out “Auntie Elizabeth!” It was my sister’s granddaughter, Mary, come all the way from Galilee. What on earth? As she ran up to me, breathless, embracing me with a warm hug, suddenly the baby in my womb leapt and I was filled with wonder and joy! This was the mother of the Messiah! Don’t ask me how I knew – somehow God spoke to me.

I opened my mouth to bless her, and the words just tumbled out: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!” We wept and embraced. Then Mary sang the most beautiful song. It went something like:

My soul glorifies the Lord
47     and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48 for he has been mindful
    of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
49     for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
    holy is his name.

As the babe in my womb heard these words, he danced again for joy, and soon we were all dancing – Mary, me, the child, her child, It was as if we were transported to the very heavens themselves. I will never forget the joy of that day!

Zechariah didn’t seem terribly surprised to see Mary. It was as if he had been expecting her.

He simply greeted her with a nod and placed his hand on her head in blessing, as was customary for an elder to bless a younger family member. Mary told him that an angel had appeared to her, telling her that she would conceive and give birth to a son, who would be called the Son of the Most High… who would reign over Jacob’s descendants forever, whose kingdom would never end.” He looked at her gravely, then broke into a big smile and embraced her, then silently blessed her again. Later, after he regained his speech, he told me how her story confirmed what the angel who appeared to him in the temple had said: that our child, John, would prepare the way for the Messiah. Mary’s simple faith had strengthened his. Now the Messiah was to be born! Our long years of waiting were over.

Mary stayed with us for three months. Having a younger woman there to help me was a blessing. Mary was young and strong. She took on many of the tasks that exhausted me – grinding grain, working in the garden, even fetching water from the well. She seemed to grow more glowing and beautiful each day!

Meanwhile I shared with her all my woman’s lore: what she could expect as her time drew near, what she needed to know about giving birth. Although I had never borne a child before, I had attended many births, and had helped the midwives deliver many babies. I wanted her to be prepared when the time came.

When Mary felt that she could face her family and her fiancé Joseph with her surprising and difficult news, she returned to Galilee. I knew she would be a fine mother, young though she was, and I prayed that Joseph and her parents would believe her. At least she could tell them that she had our blessing, for Zechariah and I were sure she was chosen to be the mother of the Messiah.

When my baby was born, there was great rejoicing! As the angel said, it was a boy. Zechariah wept to see his son, after so many years of waiting. All of our neighbors, some of whom had mocked me for being barren, came around to congratulate us. After eight days, the child was to be circumcised and given a name. Everyone thought he would be named Zechariah, for his father,

but Zechariah had already conveyed to me that the child should be named John. A few weeks before, he had gone to the trouble to write it on a tablet, so I spoke up and said, “No! He is to be called John.” But no one believed me – after all, no one in our family had that name. Again, my husband motioned for a writing tablet to be brought, and again he wrote, “His name is John.” And what do you know? That very moment, my Zechariah’s mouth was opened and he began to speak, praising God. All our neighbors were awestruck. Everyone was talking about it – how my husband had been struck dumb, and then suddenly could speak again. We all wondered, “What is this child going to be?”

John – it means “God is gracious.” For the Lord’s hand was with him. John. I was so happy. God had heard my prayers at last. Now my name, Elizabeth, truly meant, “God’s promise,” for God has kept his promises to me and to all the world in sending us a Savior, Jesus Christ, the Messiah, and my son, John, would prepare the way.

So, now you know my story. What promise has God given to you? How will you prepare the way for the Messiah? Amen.

Sermon ©Deborah Troester 2025