Zacharias's Life Chronicle

I, Zacharias, the head priest of the temple, woke up with the dawn. The duty of the offering of incense had been given to me, so, in the half-light of dawn, I walked to the temple. When I arrived at the doors of the holy place, I carefully washed my hands and removed my sandals before I entered. I walked into the cool darkness and lit a lantern so that I could see.

From a small table, I took a censer, filled it with incense, and then, lighting it, went about the temple, letting the smoke drift where it may and filling the temple with the rich odor of the incense.

The light of day started to fill the temple. I put the censer away and began making my way toward the door, for I needed to perform the daily blessing for the faithful waiting outside.

Suddenly, between myself and the door, a great spot of brilliant light flared up, so bright that I covered my eyes. I covered my eyes-not because I feared being blinded by the light—it could be the Lord appearing behind the light, and men, as sinners, do not have the honor to look at the Holy One.

"Zacharia," a commanding voice said. "Look."

I pulled my arm away from my face and saw an angel of the Lord standing before me. He had a noble face and was looking sternly at me.

"I have some very important news to give you. It is from the Lord."

I trembled. "And the news is?" I asked.

When the angel, who called himself Gabriel, told me the Lord's message, I blinked several times and stammered before I managed to reply. For the message that Gabriel relayed was this: that my wife, the very old Elizabeth, was pregnant.

I figured that Gabriel must have gotten the message mixed up somehow, and I thought I'd never heard of an angel so careless. If I had been less wise, I would've said so. Really, I thought rather irreligiously, perhaps the Lord could find a different job for Gabriel. This angel's skills as a messenger were a bit off…how could my wife have a child now?

"That is not possible," I said respectfully. "Elizabeth is very old. How can she be with child?"

I waited for Gabriel to realize his mistake, but he looked even more sternly. "It is true, and because you have doubted this message from the Lord, from now until the day your child is born you will not be able to speak."

I tried to protest, but I could not speak. My punishment had started right at that moment. I looked stupidly at Gabriel, and he gave me a severe look before disappearing.

I had to go to a rabbi and write on parchment a message for him to give to the people outside. I didn't know how much I could reveal, so I merely wrote that an angel had relayed a message from the Lord, which I didn't believe, and I would not be able to speak for a long time.

There was nothing left to do but to head home. I was aware of people staring at me, and I hurried away. I did not slow my pace until I was home, and there in the main room, mending some clothing, was Elizabeth and her friend, Hadar.

From another room I picked up a flat piece of smooth gray rock and a bit of chalk. I was aware of both of the women staring at me when I returned. They were waiting for me to speak, for I had not greeted them when I had entered the house, something considered very disrespectful.

I showed a message I had written on the slate: Elizabeth, the angel of the Lord told me that you were having a child. I did not believe the Lord, and I am mute until the child is born.

I handed the slate to Elizabeth, who read the message and showed it to Hadar.

"Oooh, someone's in trouble!" Hadar laughed. I frowned at Hadar, and I waited for Elizabeth to speak up for me, but Elizabeth giggled.

"He can't talk for nine months," Elizabeth said, but she didn't sound upset or sympathetic.

Hadar grinned. "You'll get through it somehow, Elizabeth," she said, grinning at Elizabeth, who chuckled and looked at me mischievously.

I stared as the women burst into laughter. Really, this was too much! Both of them were laughing away as if my being mute was the funniest thing it the world. I wiped the message off of the slate and wrote: Thank you both for the sympathy. What if you two were unable to talk? The silence would be scary!

Elizabeth looked at the message and laughed even harder, but she finally managed to stop and look a little more serious. She got up and walked over to me.

"You'll get used to it," she said cheerfully.

I did get used to it after a couple of months, or at least found myself resigned to it. I continued to communicate by using the chalk and the flat piece of rock, so I was still able to 'talk' among my family and the other townspeople and my fellow rabbis and priests.

Word got out about the news I hadn't believed, and many people came to visit Elizabeth and express their amazement. The women often came to help her prepare for the baby (speaking of whom, by the way, we were told by Gabriel to name him 'John', to the confusion of others). Very often I would come into my home to hear Elizabeth and four or five women chattering away like excessively loud sparrows. They also enjoyed teasing me.

"Zachariah," one woman said slyly, "Elizabeth wants to get together a big gathering of the women at your house to celebrate the news of the new baby. If you object, clearly say no."

I wrote no on my slate. I knew all about Elizabeth's get-togethers—at least ten women crowding into the largest room in our house, talking and laughing loudly all through the supper hour.

The woman pretended to be annoyed.

"I said, 'clearly say no'! I guess the gathering is on!" she laughed, winking at Elizabeth.

Yes, I got used to the teasing, but I was glad when my son was born—the main reason, of course, was my son being born safely and on time, but another reason was that I could finally talk again and the chattering and giggling of Elizabeth and her cronies was over.

I'll never doubt the Lord again!