Transcript
Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say rejoice. Please be seated.
Oh, dear. It’s John the Baptist, everyone’s favorite angry prophet. No one wants to be yelled at by John the Baptist. Especially this close to Christmas. And yet that’s what we get. Angry John the Baptist. He talks about preparing the way of the Lord. He talks about Jesus and his winnowing fork. He calls his listeners, you brood of vipers! Sadly, and yet not really surprisingly, John the Baptist eventually gets his head cut off for all the things he has to say.
But the third Sunday of Advent is Gaudete Sunday. “Gaudete” means rejoice, as in a happy little interlude from all the repenting that is happening during Lent, or at least used to be happening back when Advent more mirrored Lent. But John the Baptist doesn’t seem so happy, doesn’t seem to know that this Sunday is supposed to be about joy. All the other passages seem to, though.
I mean, just look at them. The prophet Zephaniah says, sing aloud, rejoice and exult with all your heart. The prophet Isaiah in the canticle tells us to give thanks to the Lord and call upon his name. Make his deeds known among the peoples. Even Paul, who is literally writing from prison to a community who is being persecuted for their faith, writes, rejoice in the Lord always. Again I say, rejoice. So while John the Baptist seems to be coming out of left field spewing some angry commands on living, everyone else seems to get the idea that today, this Sunday, and perhaps this whole season of Advent is also about joy and rejoicing. Not just because Jesus is coming, also because of what Advent represents and what it means to rejoice, to have joy.
When Paul tells his friends to rejoice in the Lord, he is not telling them to be happy. Instead, he is telling them to live joyful because joy and happiness are not the same. I’m sure you already know that. You can probably think of a time when you were most happy, and you can probably think of a time when you were most joyful and you can probably feel the difference. Happiness is something we pursue. It is tied up in that pursuit. There is a reason why our Founding Father is included in our an animal rights. The right to pursuit of happiness. Happiness is not guaranteed.
Joy, on the other hand, cannot be pursued. Instead, joy is a deep longing that challenges and even defies expression. Joy requires patience, and it includes peace. Happiness is a moment, an experience based on a materialistic world. Joy, on the other hand, is derived from a soul-satisfying emotional well-being. Happiness seems like an instant easier to obtain feeling; joy seems like a work in progress, a desire that requires patience and that may never actually be realized to its fullest. Happiness is a big, cheesy smile or maybe even a deep belly laugh. Joy is like a sigh. Or like a heart song. Almost a feeling of rooted stillness.
And so when Paul tells the Philippians to rejoice, he is not just saying, don’t worry, be happy. He is asking them to seek that deep, soul-centered internal well-being that comes from residing in Jesus Christ. Paul is asking the Philippians to take the time to be still and to seek out Christ, the same Christ, the same Messiah, the same God who is in your midst. As Zephaniah says, or in the midst of you, as Isaiah declares. Hmm. There seems to be a pattern here.
Perhaps while we think about Advent being a time to prepare for a God who is to come. We could also think of it as being a time to recognize that God is also already among us, already with us in the here and the now. We just have to remember to make time for God and to make room for God in our lives, both the busy filled with errands and chores and to do lists parts of our lives, and the parts of our lives that is in our hearts and in our minds and in our souls. The part that truly yearns for the presence of a God who was and who is and who is yet to come.
Saint Augustine or Augustine, one of our early Church Fathers and a pivotal writer and theologian in the formation of our modern faith and understanding of Christ. Saint Augustine writes, Lord, you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they find rest in you. Over the years, this concept of longing has morphed and shifted until we now refer to it as a God shaped hole in our heart, a hole that is never properly filled until we fully surrender to God, giving God the proper place in our hearts, fully and completely. I imagine that is the kind of peace and joy that Paul writes about to the Philippians, which perhaps is why joy is so much more than a longing, a deep desire of the heart, to be back with its creator. God.
And perhaps that’s why this time of year leading up to and including Christmas, we might find ourselves wondering if something is missing or feel like something isn’t quite right. Even if we have the tree decorated with the perfect ornaments, even if we have the house covered in the perfect amount of Christmas lights, even if we have all the properly wrapped toys for all of the children in our lives, or children at heart, or even fur children- I have several of those in my list- even when we feel like we are ready, our to do lists are complete, our chores are done. Bring it on, Christmas chaos! We’re ready for it. Even at that point, we might still feel like we’re missing something. And what we’re missing is the God-ness, the incarnate God, baby Jesus, whose arrival we will celebrate in only nine days. Oh dear. And the God that comes into our hearts to fill the hole that exists specifically for our God.
I want to take a quick moment and dive back into John the Baptist’s angry rant, because he is kind of on to something. You see, when the crowd and the tax collectors and the soldiers ask him, what then should we do? He gives very concrete answers, very compassionate answers, very actionable answers. Who has two coats must share with anyone who has none. Collect no more than the amount prescribed to you. Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusations. In other words, stop trying to fill that God shaped hole in your heart with other things.
Granted, for us it might not be a second coat or threats and false accusations, but I can almost guarantee we regularly try to fill that spot. the spot of deep longing, with other things. Things like Christmas cookies and gift giving. Although I do love a good Christmas cookie, things like the perfect Christmas cocktail or the massive Christmas meal. Even things like the chaos of a packed house filled with laughter of little children, and the stories of years passed from older guests because all of those things are other things. Unless we remember that all of it is from and for and because of God, from and for and because of the sweet little baby Jesus who was laid in a manger, because there were no more rooms in the inn from and for, and because of the man he will grow up to be eventually hanging on a cross, dying and overcoming death by rising again from and for and because of the God who created and who continues to create in us and our lives and the world around us, the compassion, a hope, a joy, a love that will truly fill our needs if we only remember to open up and accept.
These aren’t like normal Christmas gifts, wrapped in pretty paper and tied up with sparkly bows that we are given or give. These are gifts that each and every single one of us already has already received, already enjoy. If only we remember to accept, to rejoice, and to open ourselves up to them. The many gifts God gives to each and every single one of us, especially the gift of peace. A peace that is not simply the absence of conflict and strife. Instead, a peace that comes about from the active pursuit of a right relationship with God.
Today, on the third Sunday of Advent, Gaudete Sunday, while we repent, while we prepare, may we also… celebrate? No, may we rejoice in the good news. God is here. Christ is coming. Rejoice! Amen.