In the Time of Herod, We Long for God to Break In

The Message
 
The Gospel of Luke begins in a way that may seem minor to those of us reading it today.
 
But, beginning with, “When Herod was king of Judea…” is significant.
 
With these words, Luke’s Gospel tells us that Jesus was born into a world shaped by violence, occupation, and fear.
 
It would be like starting a story today by saying, “When Adolf Hitler was in power…”
 
Or, “When Joseph Stalin was the leader of the Soviet Union…”
 
Or, “When Benito Mussolini was the Prime Minister of Italy.”
 
Those of us who know anything about the dictatorships of these men know that we are talking about times of violence, of occupation, and of fear.
 
Beginning the Gospel story in this way tells us that Jesus was born in a time of survival under empire.
 
Herod, the Roman-appointed ruler of Judea,
governed with paranoia and cruelty.
 
His power, secured through imperial alliance, was maintained by coercion, surveillance, and brutality.
 
This was not a peaceful or fear-free world.
 
Luke situates the story of Jesus within these political realities.
 
Luke’s Gospel is not merely spiritual – it is also political.
 
We don’t like to hear these words said about the Gospels, but Luke’s Gospel was written as resistance in the face of empire.
 
With this context in mind, Luke introduces us to Zechariah and Elizabeth.
 
Zechariah and Elizabeth are childless. In this context, barrenness was often interpreted as divine judgement.
 
For Elizabeth especially, her childlessness brought not just personal grief but also public shame.
 
And yet, despite the pain and grief and shame, Zechariah and Elizabeth maintained their faith, even through their longing and their waiting.
 
While offering incense in the temple, Zechariah encounters a divine messenger. During this encounter, his response is not relief or joy—but fear.
 
Zechariah is not merely startled by this encounter.
 
It evokes deep inner shaking, a disruption of body and spirit.
 
Fear, in this context, is not failure. It is a natural human response to divine disruption.
 
But fear can become more than a reaction. It can take root and become a way of being.
 
If we aren’t careful, this kind of fear can shape our posture toward the world.
 
Many of us know this kind of fear.
 
This fear can become embedded in our bodies, relationships, and public discourse.
 
It becomes background noise so constant we forget it’s there.
 
Like Zechariah, we may grow so used to disappointment that when hope finally arrives, it startles us.
 
When God interrupts, we flinch.
 
This fear is real—but Zechariah and Elizabeth’s story reminds us that it is not the only truth.
 
God has been listening. God enters the silence, the ache, the barrenness—into the very place where fear has taken root.
 
And God’s response begins not with a miracle, but with recognition: your prayer has been heard.
 
These words are not just for Zechariah – these words are for us, too, this Advent season.
 
In a season of waiting, we are not asked to suppress fear but to face it. To ask:
 
How does fear live in me?
 
What voices has it amplified?
 
What longings has it silenced?
 
Fear can be a teacher. It tells us that something matters.
 
That something is at stake.
 
It is the voice of our vulnerability asking not to be erased, but acknowledged.
 
Advent gives us room to sit with fear—not to banish it, but to listen.
 
What are we afraid to hope for?
What have we stopped praying for?
Where has fear caused us to shrink back?
 
Zechariah’s fear doesn’t disqualify him. It marks the beginning of transformation.
 
“In the time of Herod...” the world was loud with empire’s threats, echoing with grief and longing.
 
And still—God broke in. In the time of fear, God heard a prayer. And responded with presence.
 
This Advent, perhaps the question is not how we get rid of our fear.
 
Perhaps the deeper invitation is this: Can we name our fear honestly—and still believe God is near?
 
So, with all of that in mind, we are going to take a few minutes now to name our fears.
 
This is not a public exercise. It is a deeply personal, private, and spiritual exercise.
 
This is between you and God.
 
You all should have at least one piece of paper.
 
There are markers or pens available – you may need to share.
 
I would like you all to take some time now to name your fears by writing them on your paper.
 
You might be thinking “I don’t have any fears.” This may be true, but remember that fear can sometimes manifest as longing.
 
For example, some people desperately long for a partner, but perhaps this translates to fear of loneliness.
 
Many of us long for more money, more resources, etc. Perhaps this longing is fear of future insecurity.
 
Many of us know exactly where our fears lie: we are afraid for the future, afraid for our children or grandchildren, or afraid of the world we are leaving for future generations.
 
There are big fears and small fears, but none are insignificant to God.
 
So, let’s take 5 minutes now to write our fears.
 
Once you are done, you can fold that paper up as small as you’d like. Then we will each put our paper in this box.
 
This box will be a sacred and confidential box. It will remain in my office during the week, and we will bring it out each Sunday so we can hold space for our fears. No one will see these fears.
 
As we move further into Advent, on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, we will symbolically release those fears and then take time to name our hopes.
 
So, please take 5 minutes now to write your fears. I will ring the singing bowl when the time is up.
 
This should be a time of silence, prayer, and opening of heart to God.
 
*****
 
May your fears be held safely in the arms of our loving and gracious God. Amen.
 
 
Let us pray:
 
With-us God, in the time of Moses, you spoke through water in the desert and a pillar of smoke. In the time of the judges, you spoke through the prophets.
 
In the time of Herod, you spoke through angel choruses and unlikely miracles. In every time you have been speaking. So today, in our time, we ask that you would speak again. Break through the chatter and the distraction of our weary minds and speak to us once more. With hope we pray, amen.
 
 
 
This sermon utilized the commentary by Rev. Dr. Boyung Lee  | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org. Used with permission

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