By the Ven. Margaret Grayden
The Third Sunday of Advent—the Sunday of Joy, or, in Latin, “Gaudete Sunday”—lands awkwardly and, to be honest, a little painfully for me in 2021. The themes of the Advent season generally—repentance and amendment of life, waiting with longing for the coming of Jesus, the Messiah—those themes resonate. But the emphasis on joy when the days grow shorter, the nights grow longer, and we continue to navigate a global pandemic, the sin of racism, climate crisis, economic distress, and a highly dysfunctional political system? Really? If the current state of affairs is cause for rejoicing, I hate to think what would qualify as cause for mourning. Joy just isn’t the right word for the times in which we find ourselves. Or is it? What does it mean to rejoice in a time of darkness, at a point in human history when so many people are struggling in so many ways?
At times like this, I find it helpful to take a step back and consider the bigger picture, the long arc of salvation history. And when I do, when I think about the lived experience of the people of God as recorded in Scripture, it is perfectly clear that this experience of holding sorrow and joy simultaneously is nothing new. The people of God have always been mourning and rejoicing. And that realization helps me appreciate the epistle appointed for this day—an excerpt from the Apostle Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. Paul writes:
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”[1]
You might well wonder how Paul could write so powerfully about joy given the circumstances in which he found himself. This particular passage comes from the fourth chapter of Paul’s letter to the Philippians. It was written while Paul was in prison for proclaiming the Gospel, probably at either Ephesus or Rome, around 62 C.E.—near the end of his life. Letters, of course, were the primary means of communication at that time. It’s easy to forget that, and to forget how long it actually took to hear from loved ones far away. No postal service, no email, no texts, no cell phones, no social media. There was, in fact, a lot of waiting for news about loved ones—a lot of time in which to wonder how things were going, a lot of time in which to worry. And yet, in this excerpt from his letter to the church at Philippi, Paul exhorts his followers to rejoice even as they waited and worried about his fate, and perhaps their own as well.
What is joy? It is easy to equate joy with happiness, but it turns out that joy is much more than happiness. Joy comes in different flavors—there is the kind of overwhelming, exuberant, flash of joy that comes out of nowhere and equally quickly dissipates (what one might call “transient” or “episodic” joy), and then there is the kind of joy that is deeper than a fleeting burst of happiness, something that is calm and enduring—the kind of joy that sustains us over the long haul in this journey we call “life.” Psychologist, theologian, and Presbyterian minister Pamela King explains that “…joy is most fully understood as a virtue that involves our thoughts, feelings, and actions in response to what matters most in our lives. Thus, joy is an enduring, deep delight in what holds the most significance.”[2] In her view, joy and sorrow are deeply connected because both are responses to the things that matter most.
What are the hallmarks of joy? Dr. King identifies three key features: “(1) growing in authenticity and living more into one’s strengths, (2) growing in depth of relationships and contributing to others, and (3) living more aligned with one’s ethical and spiritual ideals.”[3] I think that’s the kind of joy that Paul is talking about. As scholar and theologian Carla Works notes, for Paul, joy “is not a feeling that is dependent upon circumstances. It is a theological act.”[4] Paul can exhort the Philippians to be joyful because he is joyful—because even in the midst of great danger, he continues to live into his strengths, grow in the depth of his relationships with the churches he planted, help others, and live in alignment with his core spiritual belief that God’s great act of salvation in Christ Jesus is bringing about a new creation in heaven and on earth.
This kind of joy, as scholar, theologian and Baptist minister Willie James Jennings puts it, is “…an act of resistance against despair and its forces…Joy in that regard is a work, that can become a state, that can become a way of life.”[5] Joy, then, is a stance—it is something that we choose, not something that happens to us. And it is something that we can and must—choose again and again. It isn’t a one-and-done kind of thing. We must continually re-orient ourselves toward joy, choosing to focus our time and energy on that which holds the most significance for us. That’s the key to thriving in difficult times.
Well, if this is the Sunday of Joy, what do we make of John the Baptist in today’s gospel reading? Where is the joy in being called a brood of vipers, warned to repent and not to rely on ancestry, history, or tradition to protect us from the coming wrath? Here’s a fun fact: in the Roman Catholic tradition, John the Baptist is the patron saint of spiritual joy. That’s not as strange as it might seem. John is, after all, the one who leaps for joy in his mother’s womb when Mary and Elizabeth met. John is the one who finds joy not in being the longed-for Messiah, but in pointing the way to that Messiah, Jesus. When the crowds ask John, “What then should we do?” he directs them to do things that will create a more just and equitable world, each according to their particular circumstances.
So, what then should we do, at this time and in this place? Jesus calls us to focus on ultimate things, the things that hold the most significance. And what could hold more significance than love, loving one another and all creation, following what our Presiding Bishop Michael Curry calls The Way of Love? Following The Way of Love may look different for each of us. For some, it may involve upstream justice work; for others, it may involve direct relief of suffering, for example, by feeding the hungry at Davis Community Meals and Housing, by sheltering the unhoused through supporting the HEART of Davis winter shelter program, or by bringing comfort to the sick and lonely as a friendly visitor. On this Third Sunday in Advent, may God stir up in us the will and the grace to hold joy and sorrow as we follow the life-giving Way of Love.
AMEN
[1] Philippians 4:4-7
[2] https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/hope-resilience/202007/what-is-joy-and-what-does-it-say-about-us., accessed online on 12/08/21.
[3] Ibid.
[4]https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-of-advent-3/commentary-on-philippians-44-7-5. Accessed online on 12-08-21.
[5] https://faith.yale.edu/media/joy-and-the-act-of-resistance-against-despair. Accessed online on 12-08-21.
