December 17, 2017
3 Advent, Year B
Don’t Worry, be Joyful
Some years ago,
my wife and I played a terrible practical joke on a few of our closest family
members. Having grown weary of the
ubiquitous Christmas card end-of-year “look at what we did and where we went
this year” letter insert, we decided to write our own version. We wrote a normal one – listing what we’d
done and the places we’d gone -- and mailed it out to the larger list. We also wrote a different one and mailed it to
a few relatives and close friends to see what they might think.
In this letter,
we did not speak of our children’s achievements, our professional successes or
our global adventures. We went
dark. We wrote of tantrums, expulsions,
illness, humiliations and failures. Some of it was partially true – most of it
made it – and we were so convincing in our sad, snarky Christmas letter that a
relative reached out to us to see if we were O.K. And then we told them of our scheme.
Deep down, I
think what we were trying to do was to push back up against the pressure to
have life rolled up in nicely presented package by the end of each year for the
world to see. A life that from the
outside projected happiness, when we all probably know that that is not always
the case. When others want a smile and
happiness, there can be a lot stirring inside and around us.
It was musician
Bobby McFerrin who wrote and performed his a cappella hit “Don’t worry be
Happy” in 1988.
Here's a little song
I wrote
You might want to
sing it note for note
Don't worry, be happy
In every life we have
some trouble
But when you worry
you make it double
Ain't got no place to
lay your head
Somebody came and
took your bed
The landlord say your
rent is late
He may have to
litigate
Don't worry, be happy
Today, the third
Sunday in Advent and its dominant theme, is the church’s version of that
song. Sort of. Well, not really. It’s more than that. Long
ago when Advent used to be longer and more penitent, the leaders figured that
people in the midst of fasting and waiting needed a boost. So, the message for this Sunday – very close
to Christmas – was to rejoice. There was
a light at the end of the tunnel. There’s
a difference, as it turns out, between happiness by joy.
The late theologian
Henri Nouwen described that difference. While happiness is dependent on
external conditions, joy is "the experience of knowing that you are
unconditionally loved and that nothing -- sickness, failure, emotional
distress, oppression, war, or even death -- can take that love away."
External
conditions can change day to day thus shifting our wiliness and response of
happiness. Joy goes deeper.
What Scripture
shows us is that it is possible to experience joy in the midst of profoundly
sad moments and hard times, because God enters our lives and often comes to us
when we are most ready to accept what before we might have thought we could
have done on our own. There is no
accident that transformation and change does not happen so much when we are
flying high and most confident about who we are and where we are going, but
when we miss, get shaken, confused, begin to doubt or are struck by adversity
that we did not see coming. Then God
enters in.
The public
ministry of Jesus began with him quoting the message of profound joy that
Isaiah speaks of. Good news to the oppressed, the brokenhearted
are patched up, liberty is proclaimed to the captives, and release to the
prisoners. Mourners are comforted. Sorrow becomes joy.
When people come
to me in moments of crisis and uncertainty, and ask where they should begin to
read in the Bible – they know they have a version laying around the house
somewhere – I encourage the Psalms.
The reason we
read the Psalms because they allow us to hear how people have prayed for
centuries through the ups and downs of life – abandonment, defeat, exile, and hardship. They allow us rage against God when we feel
alone or wronged. They listen when we
feel as if the whole world is against us. They accompany us through the valleys
of the shadow of death and remind us that our help is to come from the
Lord. They invite us to see that the sun will rise
again and new day will lead to new possibilities.
They show a
pathway not to happiness – an emotion dependent on the external – but something
more that comes from above. And in that
moment, in Psalm 126 we hear and echo: The
Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoiced. Those who go out weeping shall come home with
shouts of joy.
The third Sunday
of Advent wants us to hear loud and clear: Paul writes in the Epistle: v. 16-21 Rejoice always, pray without
ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; hold fast to what is good.
My wife Leslie
and I have traveled to Mexico with our family many times. When our kids where very young, we flew into
Mexico City to transfer to a language school in Cuernavaca, some two hours
south by car. Those where clergy
vacations in those days: the whole family in language class. On this trip, we flew into Mexico City at night
and saw lights that would spread from horizon to the next. Some 18 million people living the vast city,
one that we know is susceptible to earthquakes and violence. I remember after we collected our luggage, we
had to walk through crowds and crowds of people to find the car that would take
us the rest of way. With kids too big to
carry, and too young to allow to wander on their own, we grabbed their hands and
held on tight as we walked pulling our suitcases.
Hold fast to those
we love. Hold fast to what is good. Hold fast to the gift of community in a land
that values independence more than dependence.
The Pew Research
Center did a survey of most and least religious states last year and ranked
them. Most religious: Alabama. There was a tie for 50th – the least
religious states. Massachusetts and New
Hampshire. Hold onto community when it
seems like coming to church is swimming upstream.
Hold fast to the
joy that music brings – especially this time of year. Hold fast to those moments that seem to be
going by too quickly by taking time to sit, pause, look up and around. Hold fast and hold on to what matters and let
the rest go.
Going back to Nouwen’s
words – learning the difference between happiness and joy -- is becomes
"the experience of knowing that you are unconditionally loved.”
Why is
unconditional love so true and so hard?
Diplomats often speak
of conditions that have to be met before opposing sides can sit down at a negotiation
table with one another.
It took the
prodigal son distance and time away from his father – time misspent doing all
the wrong things – that in returning he discovered that he was loved even after
he wandered, rebelled, and squandered away almost everything.
The first step of
faith – in being able to experience joy – is talking ourselves into being
worthy of love and forgiveness by God because of who we are and in spite of
what we’ve done.
Loving
unconditionally involves doing the inner work that many of find difficult and
illusive. It is a life-long process of coming to see ourselves as God does.
This is the heart
of what Advent waits to announce. The
incarnation of God in Jesus, whose birth and life John was preaching and
preparing for, had no pre-conditions. God
came into a broken world with no guarantees.
Jesus was born in
an out of way, almost forgotten town – far away from the halls of power. Lowly shepherds are a lasting testimony for
the working-class roots of the first Nativity scene.
In the days that
remain until Christmas, spend a few moments each day, thinking and praying about
what fades away as soon as the special day and season is over – the decorations
and lights put away for next year – and what stays with us through all our days. Hold onto to One who holds onto you. Always.
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