Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Rev. Samuel Kennedy
The Third Sunday of Advent, Year B, December 17, 2023
Click here for an audio of the sermon
A blessed third Sunday of Advent to you! It would seem that our liturgy is trying to communicate to us that change is afoot in this liturgical season. The glow of the wreath is brighter now that we have the third candle lit, our celebrant is vested in rose instead of the solemn purple we’ve seen the last two weeks, and there’s even a gentler, more hopeful tone about our Lessons.
Today we observe Gaudete Sunday, whose name is taken from the first word of the introit that was historically used on this Sunday,”Gaudete in Domino semper.” “Rejoice in the Lord Always.” While that introit is based on Philippians 4 and Psalm 85, our Lesson from First Thessalonians 5 passionately reiterates this call, urging us to not merely experience joy on special occasions but rather to "Rejoice always! Pray without ceasing! Give thanks in all circumstances; to not quench the Spirit.
“Rejoice always…” It sounds stirring, yet I can't help but admit that Paul’s imperatives seem a bit tone-deaf at times, even conjuring up images of white-knuckled spiritual bypassing. While I know that’s not being fair to the Apostle, his context, or what we can best discern about his intentions in writing, it is, if I’m honest, sometimes my experience when I read these words, and I believe it is important that we acknowledge that these imperatives from Paul may, at times, feel a bit detached from the realities of life.
This year we are walking through Advent for a second time after the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Today there are approximately ten thousand Ukrainian civilians and over a hundred thousand Ukrainian and Russian military personnel who are dead; no longer able to join us in awaiting the feast of Christmas. This year, it is they, not we, who are joined by nearly 1500 Israelis and 18,000 Palestinians who have died in the war in Gaza and Israel. Tragically, we all know that the examples of suffering in our world do not stop there.
The holiday season also often magnifies our personal losses, the void left by those we loved and who loved us. The holidays can conjure up wistful longing for dreams that still elude us.
In the face of such suffering and grief, can the Church authentically call us to joy? Is it even ethical for us to experience joy when the world (and our hearts are) is in this state? These questions weigh heavily on us (our hearts). And if we can experience joy, what function does it serve? What might the Spirit be inviting us to, when it/she invites us to rejoice, even in the midst of the suffering of this world?
As we grapple with these questions, I think it can be helpful to recall the historical context in which these passages, with their attendant calls to joy, were written. The authors, did not live detached, privileged lives, but also faced the crucibles of suffering and adversity, as our beloved Apostle Paul likes to remind is some of his other writings. So, perhaps the joy that Paul speaks of and calls us to in our Epistle Lesson today is not an oblivious dance around the harsh realities of life, but rather something deeper -- a disposition that flows from a trust that ALL is held within the embrace of the Spirit of God. A trust that our grief, anger, and longing are not ignored but have a purpose, an end -- a deeper opening of our hearts to participate in the transformative work of the Spirit that we heard described so poetically in our lesson from Isaiah.
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives
and release to the prisoners…
to comfort all who mourn…
to repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations
This is, of course, the work of Jesus — the One that John the Baptist points to in our Gospel lesson, the One whom we await this Advent, and who invites us to join him in his work as the adopted children of God. It is the completion of this work that we await and long for this Advent, and it is this work that the Spirit invites us to participate in.
However, for us to be able to join God in this work of healing, liberation, and repair, we have to first be willing and able to see the realities of the brokenness around us and within ourselves. Because we cannot actively participate in the renewal of the things that we cannot or will not see. But seeing is painful; experiencing the brokenness of this world — and our own hearts — can incline us toward shutting down, walling off, using every tool at our disposal to bypass the pain.
But the Spirit of God, whose work Paul reminds us not to quench, seems to be faithfully about the work of expanding our hearts, of opening them up precisely to perceive and experience, unflinchingly and honestly, that which is true both about the world around us and the worlds within us.
And I believe that this may be where joy has an important role to play.
There’s a saying in the Taoist tradition, “When you open your heart, you get life’s ten thousand sorrows and ten thousand joys.”
Dharma teacher James Baraz articulates an understanding of the purpose of joy that I believe resonates with the wisdom of Scripture, and I’d like to share with you. He writes,
“Joy creates a spaciousness in the mind that allows us to hold the suffering we experience inside us and around us without becoming overwhelmed, without collapsing into helplessness or despair. It brings inspiration and vitality, dispelling confusion and fear while connecting us with life. Profound understanding of suffering does not preclude awakening to joy. Indeed, it can inspire us all the more to celebrate joyfully the goodness in life…[experiencing joy does not] mean disregarding suffering; [but] it does mean not overlooking happiness and joy.”
Joy, then, is not an escape from reality but rather a profound encounter with it. It creates a spaciousness in the mind, a sacred container that allows us to hold the weight of suffering without being crushed beneath its burden. Joy brings inspiration and vitality, connecting us more deeply with the pulse of life itself.
The Spirit of God that holds us and gives us life connects us to the pain and suffering in our own hearts and in the lives of those around us, but it also connects us to the joys emerging wherever there is life. The Spirit is present and holds the tragedies in Gaza and the Ukraine and invites us to lament and mourn with those who mourn and to work for just peace. That very same Spirit also connects us to the beauty, awe, and wonder experienced at the birth of a loved child, or the simple heart’s delight at being nuzzled by a beloved pet.
The way that joy seems to function in our lives reminds me a bit of the way one of my very favorite singer songwriters uses music as he composes his songs. This artist has an uncanny ability to pen the most unflinchingly heartbreaking lyrics, but then deliver those lyrics in a way that we can stomach -- that feels almost gentle because he surrounds them with such musical beauty. The beauty of the music holds the pain of the lyrics and enables us to endure them and even connect our own pain and loss to the pain expressed in the song. I believe that joy functions analogously to music in this example — joy holds us as the Spirit broadens our hearts and opens our eyes. It enables us to endure the pain in our own lives and witness and stand alongside others in their own. This opening of our hearts, this beholding, in turn, allows us to begin to connect to the healing, renewing work of God around us and within us.
One of our most beloved Advent hymns captures this tension between joy and mourning well.
O come O come Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice, rejoice,
Emmanuel shall come to you, O Israel.
May these words remind us that even in the midst of our waiting and mourning, there is room for joy to blossom, and that joy will help further open our hearts to the healing and renewing work of God that we await and long for this Advent. So may we not quench the Spirit, and may our hearts be opened to experience the 10,000 sorrows and 10,000 joys of this life, so that in those moments when the longed for Son of God appears with healing and redemption in his wings we stand ready to behold and join him in his work.
In the name of God, Lover Beloved, and Love overflowing.
Amen.
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