How does “On Care for our Common Home” help me better “know” my role in caring for creation, as I reflect on today’s Gospel (Luke 1:5–25), where Zechariah encounters God’s promise with both doubt and wonder—challenging me to resist the ironclad logic of technology, which seeks power and lordship over all, and instead approach the world’s challenges, from dealing with fallen leaves to extending “outstretched hands” in service, with faith and action❓
In the days of Herod, King of Judea,
there was a priest named Zechariah
of the priestly division of Abijah;
his wife was from the daughters of Aaron,
and her name was Elizabeth.
Both were righteous in the eyes of God,
observing all the commandments
and ordinances of the Lord blamelessly.
But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren
and both were advanced in years.Once when he was serving as priest
in his division’s turn before God,
according to the practice of the priestly service,
he was chosen by lot
to enter the sanctuary of the Lord to burn incense.
Then, when the whole assembly of the people was praying outside
at the hour of the incense offering,
the angel of the Lord appeared to him,
standing at the right of the altar of incense.
Zechariah was troubled by what he saw, and fear came upon him.But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah,
because your prayer has been heard.
Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son,
and you shall name him John.
And you will have joy and gladness,
and many will rejoice at his birth,
for he will be great in the sight of the Lord.
He will drink neither wine nor strong drink.
He will be filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother’s womb,
and he will turn many of the children of Israel
to the Lord their God.
He will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah
to turn the hearts of fathers toward children
and the disobedient to the understanding of the righteous,
to prepare a people fit for the Lord.”Then Zechariah said to the angel,
“How shall I know this❓
For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.”
And the angel said to him in reply,
“I am Gabriel, who stand before God.
I was sent to speak to you and to announce to you this good news.
But now you will be speechless and unable to talk
until the day these things take place,
because you did not believe my words,
which will be fulfilled at their proper time.”
Meanwhile the people were waiting for Zechariah
and were amazed that he stayed so long in the sanctuary.
But when he came out, he was unable to speak to them,
and they realized that he had seen a vision in the sanctuary.
He was gesturing to them but remained mute.Then, when his days of ministry were completed, he went home.
After this time his wife Elizabeth conceived,
and she went into seclusion for five months, saying,
“So has the Lord done for me at a time when he has seen fit
to take away my disgrace before others.”
This question invites a deep reflection on the nature of faith, doubt, and the lessons I come to “know” through Scripture and my relationship with creation. Zechariah’s story in today’s Gospel (Luke 1:5–25) highlights a tension many of us feel: how to “know” and trust in God’s promises, especially when they come in ways that challenge our understanding. It’s easy to sympathize with Zechariah, who receives a sign for his doubt—becoming mute—while Mary, asking a similar question, is praised and reassured. This apparent disparity might feel unfair, but further reflection reveals a deeper wisdom.
Zechariah had prayed for a son and received an answer rooted in the faith traditions he knew—God granting children to the barren, as seen with Abraham and Manoah. His doubt arose not from ignorance but from a struggle to reconcile his prayers with his ability to “know” and trust in God’s power to act once again in history. Perhaps his muteness was not a punishment but an invitation to silent trust and deeper reflection, helping him to “know” God’s work in a more profound way.
In the context of On Care for Our Common Home, Zechariah’s story challenges me to consider how I come to know and respond to signs around me. Do I meet them with faith or with skepticism shaped by the “ironclad logic” of technology that prioritizes power over well-being❓ Dealing with fallen leaves or extending “outstretched hands” in service are small yet profound acts that remind me of my interconnectedness and call me to know and live out my faith actively, trusting in God’s promises.
– Are you aware you’re under subpoena❓
– Yes. I am also aware that the lives of two Marines are in your hands.
– If there was something I could do about that, I would. But since I can’t, all I can do is help you.
– What do you know❓
– I know everything.
– Was it a Code Red❓
– Yes.
– Did Kendrick give the order❓
– Yes.
– Did you witness it❓
– I didn’t need to. No.
– Then how do you know❓ You know shit.
– He was never gonna be transferred off that base.
Faced with the mysteries of faith and creation, I find myself asking the same question as Zechariah:
Technology tends to absorb everything into its ironclad logic, and those who are surrounded with technology “know full well that it moves forward in the final analysis neither for profit nor for the well-being of the human race”, that “in the most radical sense of the term power is its motive – a lordship over all”.[87]
From paragraph 108 of ENCYCLICAL LETTER LAUDATO SI’ OF THE HOLY FATHER FRANCIS ON CARE FOR OUR COMMON HOME