Annunciation: “The Lord Has Visited His People”

(Luke 1:56–70)

In this holy season of Advent, the Church teaches us again how to wait, not with anxiety, but with faith. Today’s Gospel gives us a picture of waiting fulfilled: the birth of John the Baptist, the forerunner of Christ.

For months, Zachariah and Elisabeth had waited in silence. Their home was marked by age, by barrenness, and by mystery. Yet when God’s promise ripened, when “the fulness of time came,” a son was born, and joy broke forth among their neighbors. The silence turned to song.

The Fathers of the Church remind us that this “fulness of time” is not simply a date on the calendar, but a symbol of righteousness fulfilled. St. Ambrose says that this “fulness of time” belongs only to the righteous. The life of the righteous is a life full of meaning; the days of the wicked are empty. How true that is! A heart filled with faith and virtue is never barren. God brings forth fruit even in old age, even in impossible places.

Advent proclaims that quiet seasons, unanswered prayers, and long nights are not empty they are being filled. God is working in the stillness.

When Elizabeth brings forth her son, her neighbors rejoice with her. The joy of one righteous person becomes the joy of many. When God visits one home, it becomes a blessing for all. Holiness is never private; it is a public light.

When the child is born, everyone assumes he will be named after his father, Zechariah. That is how things are done. But Elizabeth, moved by the Spirit, says, “No… he shall be called John.” “John” means God is gracious. The name itself preaches the Gospel before the Gospel is even proclaimed. Grace, not law. Gift, not inheritance. God’s choice, not man’s custom.

That is Advent’s message: God breaks into our settled expectations. He names things differently than we would. Just as He gave a child to an elderly woman and a Savior to a weary world, so He gives grace where we have run out of strength.

Zechariah, still silent from his doubt, confirms the name by writing, “His name is John.” And at that moment, his tongue is loosed, and he praises God. Faith releases the voice that doubt had silenced.

If we wish to speak, let us write divine mysteries upon the tablet of our hearts. When we turn from doubt to trust, when we let grace enter the places where disappointment has made us mute our hearts, too, can speak again.

St. Bede tells us that this moment prefigures the dawn of the New Covenant. The people of the Law want to name the child after his father Zechariah, memory of the past, but God names him John, grace for the future. The Old gives way to the New. The shadow gives way to the light.

Advent is a time to recover our voice to let faith speak again. Many of us carry quiet doubts, quiet wounds, quiet fears. But when we choose to trust the promises of God, the tongue of our soul is loosened once more.

Then Zechariah, filled with the Holy Spirit, proclaims:

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for He has visited and redeemed His people.”

Now the old priest speaks not as a father but as a prophet. His tongue, once mute, becomes an instrument of praise. What he once doubted, he now announces: God has visited His people.

He blesses God not for what he hopes will happen, but for what he already sees by faith. The Messiah is near. The Horn of Salvation is rising in the house of David. Salvation is no longer a dream of the prophets; it is a Child soon to be born in Bethlehem.

This is the same blessing we are called to sing: God has visited His people.
He has come to us in our barrenness, in our silence, in our waiting. He has given us grace where we expected judgment, and joy where we expected none.

This is the heart of Advent:
God has visited His people.
He has not abandoned us to our waiting but draws near in mercy. Even before the birth of Jesus, the light of His coming shines in John. The silence is breaking; the dawn is near.

This is the very heart of Advent: God has visited His people.

He has not abandoned us to our waiting but comes to us in mercy. Even before the birth of Jesus, the light of His coming already begins to shine in John. The silence is breaking; the dawn is near.

Today’s Gospel offers us three lessons for our Advent journey:

1. God’s promises ripen in their time.

Like Elisabeth, we must trust the slow unfolding of grace. God’s delays are never denials. His timing is perfect.

2. Faith breaks the silence of doubt.

Zachariah’ voice was restored when he believed. So too, when we let go of fear and open ourselves to God’s will, the tongue of our soul learns again to sing His praise.

3. Grace prepares the way for glory.

Before Christ appears, grace is already at work. John’s birth is the dawn before the sunrise, the forerunner of the Lord who is to come.

So let us keep Advent well — in quiet hope, in renewed faith, and in readiness for joy.
In these final weeks before Christmas, let us make our hearts like the home of Zachariah and Elisabeth, a place of faith, of patience, and of joy.

Let us name again, with our own lips, the grace we have received.

And when Christ visits us – in prayer, in the Eucharist, and in the quiet of our lives – may we, like Zachariah, be found blessing His name:

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for He has visited and redeemed His people.”

✍ Fr James Abraham