Old, you were old, Zechariah,
you and Elizabeth,
too old to have your prayer answered,
too old to have a child.

But your prayer was heard, Zechariah.
“A baby,” the angel said,
“a son.”

Dumbfounded, you were dumbfounded, Zechariah.
“How can I know for sure?” you asked.
Wrong question, Zechariah.

Dumb, you were struck dumb, Zechariah.
dumbstruck, nine months silent.

You were humble-struck by the one who struck you dumb.

When you held your son —
“John,” you wrote, “his name is John” —
your tongue was loosed.

Awe-struck, you were awe-struck, old Zechariah,
father of the promised child,
in awe of the promise maker,
in awe of the promise keeper.

Filled, you were filled, Zechariah,
filled with God’s Spirit,
filled with his praise
filled with his truth.

Old Zachariah, dumb-struck, humble-struck, awe-struck Zechariah,
tongue-loosed, praise-singing Zechariah.

Ginger Kauffman

You can read Zechariah’s story in Luke 1:5-25, 57-80