Rejoice. Even So, Rejoice.

by the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on Philippians 4:4-7 and Luke 3:7-18. An audio version of the sermon may be found here. 

"Rejoice in the Lord always," Paul writes in the opening verse of our Epistle reading today; and then, because it is so important to him, he repeats it: "again I will say, Rejoice."

Rejoicing is the dominant theme on this Third Sunday of Advent. It is a thread running all through our scripture readings, from Zephaniah's call to Jerusalem to rejoice, though the canticle's command to Zion to "ring out your joy," through Paul's letter to the Philippians, even to Luke's account of John the Baptist preaching good apocalyptic news to the crowds. It is in the title of the day: this day is still known sometimes as "Gaudete Sunday," from the old Latin introit of the mass for this day, which began "Gaudete -- Rejoice!" When we still used purple for Advent, this Third Sunday, the Gaudete Sunday, was the day we lightened up the Advent Wreath with a single pink candle. Over and over again, the theme and burden of this Sunday is the call and command to rejoice.

And yet... And yet...

On this particular Third Sunday of Advent, on this December 16, 2012, rejoicing seems for many of us like a difficult and tenuous thing. "Rejoice!" may be the dominant word in our liturgy; but many of us today feel it to be a fleeting thing in our hearts.

Partly that's because of the atmosphere of forced jollity that overtakes so much of our public life in this season of the year. It's in the aggressively cheerful Christmas music that's blared on the sound systems in big box stores, while harried shoppers rush around looking for things that will make their holidays just perfect, and all the while wearing expressions on their faces that betray anxiety and annoyance and depression and everything but perfect joy. It's in vapidly happy and sentimental Christmas shows the TV networks seem compelled to broadcast -- and in the snarky and sarcastic shows others seem equally compelled to rebut them with. It's in family and social gatherings that all too often seem to be about outdoing each other, rather than really enjoying each other's company. With so much fake happiness being pushed on us in the holiday season, it can be kind of hard to find the true rejoicing in the message of Christ.

And partly the difficulty in rejoicing is because here at Trinity this Advent and Christmas we have some mixed feelings. Last week I announced that Shelby will be leaving Trinity to accept a call to Emmanuel; and in the week since then I've heard from several people who join me in having very mixed feelings about that news. I've shared with people, and people have shared with me, their happiness for Shelby, their sense of joy that she will take another step forward in her career and ministry, that this is a good thing for her and we're happy for her in it. Several people have told me that they agree with me that Shelby's going to Emmanuel may help usher in a new time of cooperation and shared ministry between Trinity and Emmanuel, and that that will be a very good thing indeed. But none of that can change the fact that Trinity will miss Shelby, that her ministry here has meant a great deal to a great many of us. Many people have told me that they want to support me through Shelby's leaving, because they know that she's been a very good colleague and I will miss her sharing in this ministry -- and I appreciate their support very much. It is one of those changes in church life that remind us that nothing ever stays the same; that just when you think you've got things comfortable, God calls you to be more than comfortable; that growing into something new always requires giving up something of what is now. There is truth in that; but there's a little bit of melancholy in that too. And even though we know this is an opportunity for Trinity to explore a new moment of growth, there is sadness in Shelby's leaving, too. And that makes it a little harder to rejoice.

And partly, of course, it's hard to rejoice because even while we proclaim our faith, we live in a world that continues to be wracked by violence and loss and grief. The mass shooting in Connecticut on Friday, in which 27 people were killed, 20 of them children, has left so many of us stunned and shocked and so overwhelmed by it that we're not sure what to feel. It is tempting to rush in with questions -- Why did this happen? Who could do such a thing? What can we do to prevent it ever happening again? -- but answers to such questions are never simple, and they're always elusive, and sometimes they are nothing more than a defense mechanism to keep us from having to face the naked horror of what we humans are capable of doing to each other. In such a moment there is nothing to do but to lament, to weep and wail and name our grief, to pray to God to make up in mercy all the many deficiencies we know too well we have, and to turn yet once more to compassion, to bearing each other up in love, as the only thing that really makes sense in this sinful and broken world. How, in the face of that, do we rejoice?

And yet, for all that, the words from Philippians still speak to us, insist on speaking to us, will not cease speaking to us even in the silence of our grief: "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."

The joy that Paul calls from us, the rejoicing that Paul commands of us, is something more -- something more than the forced jollity of the holidays, something more than the satisfaction of colleagues and ministers, something more even than security and safety and freedom from harm. The rejoicing that Pauls calls for does not depend on how happy we feel we are -- does not depend on us at all -- but depends on Christ. "Rejoice in the Lord," Paul says; "be in the peace of God," Paul says; "Let your hearts and minds be guarded in Christ Jesus," Paul says. The kind of rejoicing Paul points us to is not just being happy because everything around us is okay. The kind of rejoicing Paul points us to is a deep and abiding sense of rightness in God; it is a fundamental trust in the all-encompassing goodness of God; it is an ultimate consent, a rock-bottom Yes to life, even when life is difficult, because no matter what else happens, when everything is summed up and accomplished and played out to its end, God's love will bind all things up and God's love will make all things well.

That's what John the Baptist is talking about in our Gospel reading this morning, when he speaks of fire and judgment and winnowing and apocalypse, and calls it all good news. As John preaches it, the judgment is good news because the judgment will reveal the truth, when what is evil will be truly exposed as evil, and what is good will be truly lifted up as good, and the miasma of despair that so often prevents us from seeing God's good in this world because all we can focus on is the evil right in front of us -- that miasma will be cleared away and we will finally witness the creating grace of God in all the good it has truly done. That is the judgment John promises. And putting our whole trust in that judgment, orienting our lives and our actions toward that revealing of good, as John exhorted the crowds to do, frees us from fear and gives us a peace and joy in God so deep that no earthly sadness or disappointment or suffering can shake it or take it away.

"Rejoice in the Lord always," Paul writes. And we can receive that word here at Trinity today, because we know that rejoicing in the Lord is not just a matter of being happy or satisfied or secure, that rejoicing in the Lord is not primarily a feeling at all, but that rejoicing in the Lord is a choice, rejoicing in the Lord is a decision to trust that the goodness of God is at work all around us, even when -- especially when -- we cannot see it clearly by ourselves. "Rejoice in the Lord," Paul says, because "the Lord is near" -- and when the Lord comes no grief or destruction or sadness can fail to be redeemed in his all-renewing love.

That is the promise of Advent. That is our good news today. And that is why, even so, we rejoice. Amen.