8th Day of Simbang Gabi (December 23, 2023)

Over the past couple of misa de gallo, our reflections have centered on another significant birth—the arrival of our Lord’s cousin, John the Baptist. Amidst the joy and celebration in the household on that special day, one person remained notably silent: the father of the newborn, Zechariah. In today’s gospel account, he not only breaks his silence but also expresses his feelings through a song, offering us one of the most beautiful hymns in the New Testament.

Lately, I’ve been contemplating Zechariah’s story. I suspect that this quiet figure has a message for us—a message that God wishes us to grasp clearly as we hustle through our last-minute Christmas preparations.

Many of us are familiar with his narrative. Zechariah and his wife, Elizabeth, had fervently prayed for a son, but to their increasing disappointment, their prayers went unanswered. When the angel Gabriel visited Mary during the Annunciation, he referred to Elizabeth as “she who is called barren,” hinting at the prolonged suffering experienced by this elderly couple. For the Jews, barrenness symbolized God’s curse, and undoubtedly, Zechariah and Elizabeth endured a continuous series of uncomfortable questions until people eventually understood and ceased bringing it up in conversation.

Many of us can relate to that familiar feeling. Each of us likely has an area or aspect in our lives that doesn’t quite align with societal expectations or even our own aspirations. It might be the pressure to excel academically or professionally, the longing for a sense of belonging, or the expectations placed upon us by ourselves, our parents, or our spouse. Unfortunately, whatever the circumstance, the desired outcomes seem elusive, and we continually fall short. Initially, well-intentioned individuals express concern through inquiries, unaware of the discomfort or pain their questions may inflict. As time passes, they may tiptoe around the topic, while less compassionate individuals engage in hushed conversations behind our backs. Although the interrogations may cease, the judgment lingers in people’s eyes, not to mention the unspoken pity.

Consider, then, the plight of Zechariah when the angel Gabriel appeared to him in the temple to deliver the long-awaited news of Elizabeth’s pregnancy. “Do not be afraid, Zechariah,” the angel began, “for your prayer has been heard, and your wife will bear you a son.”

How many years Zechariah had yearned to hear those words! Can we fault him if, after the angel concluded the message, Zechariah asked, “How will I know this?” Perhaps, reading between the lines, he was thinking, “Really? How can I be sure?”

Unfortunately, the angel Gabriel seemed to sense his doubt and chose to render him mute. Perhaps the angel was having a particularly challenging day, laden with a lengthy to-do list in preparation for the first Christmas.

While we may sympathize with Zechariah’s need for reassurance, it’s worth pondering if the elderly man’s question was entirely valid. After all, Zechariah emerges as a quintessential example of someone acquainted with the perils of prolonged waiting—a true victim of the Advent experience.

Throughout his entire life, Zechariah, along with his wife, endured a prolonged period of waiting—for years!

Regrettably, protracted waiting can take a toll on us. Our hopes can only be dashed so many times, our hearts broken so frequently, and our breath held for so long before we grow weary. Eventually, we become disheartened, lose the stamina to hope, and ultimately cease praying for the one thing we’ve yearned for so long.

We are familiar with this feeling, aren’t we? Experiencing life’s letdowns repeatedly can be overwhelming. After enduring numerous setbacks, watching dreams fail to materialize, we become disillusioned, skeptical, and jaded. We give up, cease believing, and abandon hope. Our capacity to imagine the impossible wanes. Yet, when we reflect on it, isn’t that precisely what Christmas represents? The occurrence of the impossible, the unfolding of the unexpected, and the explosion of the unimaginable in the very midst of our jaded, weary world.

Recall the angel’s words to Mary: “Nothing is impossible with God.” We must be open to believing in the impossible, stretch our imaginations, and be willing to await the surprises that God has in store for us.

While we can empathize with Zechariah’s need for assurance, it’s worth noting that, after waiting for an extended period and facing repeated disappointment, he stopped believing in the impossible. Tired of stretching his imagination, he eventually refused to be surprised. Zechariah could be considered the original skeptic who stopped believing in Santa Claus—so that when, in the guise of an angel, Santa finally descended their old chimney, Zechariah could only muster a question and a raised eyebrow.

While it’s essential not to replace Christ with Santa Claus and criticize the commercialization of Christmas, I propose that we still need to believe in Santa. I suggest that this jolly character deserves a place alongside the Holy Family, angels, shepherds, wise men, ox, and donkey in the nativity scene.

Over a century ago, an 8-year-old girl named Virginia wrote a letter to the editor of the New York Sun, questioning the existence of Santa Claus. The editor’s response, timeless then as it is now, affirmed Santa’s reality as surely as love, generosity, and devotion.

In reflecting on Zechariah’s story, God’s message to us becomes clear, especially for the Zechariahs within us: “Yes, there is a Santa Claus!” Not the literal figure in a red suit, but all the positive qualities he represents: joy, generosity, goodness, even magic.

If we cannot believe in what Santa symbolizes, how can we believe in the profound mystery of the Infinite God descending our chimneys to become a baby in a manger, one of us and like us?

For me, Zechariah is the unsung hero of Advent, the epitome of waiting, because in the end, God ensured that despite years of disappointments, he could once again hold his breath for the impossible.

On this night, just a breath away from Christmas day, the day we’ve all been anticipating, the Lord invites us to revive our faded dreams, rejuvenate our weary imagination, and cradle the hopes and dreams of this world in our jaded hearts. Let’s reclaim our faith in miracles, remember what it means to dream, believe in the impossible once again, and await Him who, after centuries, will no longer

Yes, Virginia, and yes, Zechariah, there is a Santa Claus! If we can’t believe in Santa, how can we believe in that ultimate surprise and miracle we call Christmas?

Lord,  we express gratitude for the gift of Christmas.