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In November of 2004, I wrote these words for a devotion in our local newspaper
If I were going to be a superhero, I would be “Advent Girl,” complete with a purple cape, go-go boots, and magic glasses. I would fly around and show people who are busy observing Early Christmas the wonder that is Advent. I would hush their Christmas Carols and set aside their baking and busyness and invite them to repent and pray and listen. I would tell them about how it is traditional to wait to decorate until December 24 and then just as traditional to stay decorated until January 6, for the 12 days of Christmas.
I wrote those words, and I meant them. Advent is, in many ways, my favorite season. And for most of my life, I’ve loved the solemness of it. The seriousness of it. There must be something truly Calvinist in me that I’ve even loved being called a Brood of Vipers by John the Baptist.
But I want to say today that I am issuing my resignation as Advent Girl. Taking the boots to Goodwill. Because I no longer want to quiet the Carols or set aside the cookies. I’m no longer interested in trying to tell people when it’s right to put up a tree or take down a tree.
Why?
Because Joy.
Maybe because I’m older.
Maybe because the last few years have been more than a few years in our world. And I don’t think I need to list the reasons why a sane person might despair. You know it. You’ve lived it.
Maybe you have already realized what I am now embracing. I’m no longer interested in making an argument for why we should postpone joy.
Joy should not be set aside. It should be savored. It should be celebrated. We should grab it and hold onto it with both hands, holding onto it only so we can share it.
I find I am more in line with what poet Christian Wiman writes, that “joy is the only inoculation against the despair to which any sane person is prone, the only antidote to the nihilism that wafts through our intellectual atmosphere. Despair is a constant. Joy must be sought.”[2]
I am interested in seeking joy.
So, while last week I was telling you to give yourself grace and say no to the demands and the Christmas cookies and the things that are so crazy this time of year, and lifting up the truth that we need to remember that the holidays can be difficult, today I say yes to the cookies and the parties and the carols and the decorating and even the silly inflatables.
Yes to friends and belly laughs and suppers prepared with love and suppers picked up on the way.
We don’t need less joy, we need more joy.
Yes to the joy.
As the Rev. Sarah Are Speed wrote in a devotional for Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church this past week,
Isn’t it always that way?
I could harbor joy to myself.
I could tuck joyful moments deep into pockets,
Saving memories of better days for long nights.
But when I share my joy with you,
When you open the door,
Joy spills out everywhere,
And it is love that helps me float.”[3]
And however, wherever you find that, I say yes. Yes to you. Yes to joy.
Our scripture passage for today is about joy.
Isaiah is writing to a people in exile. And he is reminding them of joy. As it begins- they are the wilderness. They are the dry land. They feel parched. They feel forgotten. Isaiah reminds them that God has not forgotten them and that the presence of God doesn’t just cause a blade of grass to grow, it makes a way for a carpet of flowers and blooms and song. Joy. A joy that lasts not for the moment, but everlasting.
When Isaiah writes these words, the restoration of the people was not in sight. It was not a foregone conclusion. The people did not see it or know it in their hearts.
But it is, nonetheless, the word Isaiah gives them, and tells them of a future where the joy will be theirs.
The passage starts with the wilderness flowers calling out in joy, but it is the people who are singing at the end-
Those ransomed by the LORD shall return and come to Zion with glad song, joy everlasting on their heads, delight and joy they attain, and sorrow and sighing shall flee.
What does Isaiah prescribe for these people who were in exile? Joy. Joy. Joy.
A choice. A stubborn persistence. A determination. For joy.
We don’t need less joy in our world, we need more joy.
And so, however, whenever you find your joy in this season, you will get an Amen from me.
Running a five K through your neighborhood under the lights?
Amen.
One more squishmallow to make the grouping more robust?
Amen.
Starting your Christmas Carol singing in October?
Amen.
The perfect recycled sweater gnome found on Etsy?
Amen.
Star Wars nativity scene?
Amen.
Hallmark movies on repeat?
Amen.
Even a silly reindeer headband to symbolize joy?
Amen.
That’s not the whole story, of course. While none of the things I just listed are inherently good or inherently bad, I think we can all acknowledge that the joy Isaiah is talking about, the joy God wants for us, is something a lit the joy of a redeemed people, the joy or a transformed people, is something a little different. Something a little more sustaining, substation.
It reminds me of an article I read several years ago about self-care entitled “What real self-care is” and it says, “True self-care is not salt baths and chocolate cake, it is making the choice to build a life you don’t need to regularly escape from…. It often means looking your failures and disappointments square in the eye and re-strategizing. It is not satiating your immediate desires. It is letting go. It is choosing new. It is disappointing some people. It is making sacrifices for others. It is living a way that other people won’t, so maybe you can live in a way that other people can’t.”[4]
I love this and think it easily translates to joy. The joy God wants for us is deeper, bigger, sustaining, and nourishing. It isn’t a pick-me-up or a quick endorphin rush to help us get through. It doesn’t get derailed by a bump in the road. It’s persistent. Ever-present.
Now, again, I’m not judging. My therapist has often told me that when you are in the middle of a stressful season or time, that’s probably not the best time to try and fix your less-than-great tendencies. I can do the work of not worrying and knowing I shouldn’t worry. But sometimes when the world is swirling around me it’s a gift just to let myself worry and not try and fix myself at that moment.
But when you do find that season of contemplation arrives, this might be worth some energy.
This brings me to the prayer of St. Raphael, a prayer Flannery O’Connor prayed every day. O’Connor was a devoted Catholic, and her faith became increasingly tangible to her as her body struggled and she experienced daily pain in her final years.
She felt called to this prayer not because it solved her pain, but as she wrote to a friend, “The prayer asks St. Raphael to guide us to the province of joy that we may not be ignorant of the concerns of our true country”[5]
“Raphael, lead us toward those we are waiting for, those who are waiting for us: Raphael, Angel of happy meeting, lead us by the hand toward those we are looking for. May all our movements be guided by your Light and transfigured with your joy…. May we not be as strangers in the province of joy… in a land that is always peaceful, always serene and bright with the resplendent glory of God.”
I love this. A reminder that joy isn’t just individual, it is communal. It is finding that spiritual place and that spiritual community. The province of joy, where movement is guided not by fear but by the light and vision of God.
Joy. True joy. Which is probably (I’m sad to say) not found in a dollar tree purchase of reindeer antlers after all.
The difference between the forced smile when joy is prescribed and demanded and the candid photo where eyes are bright and you aren’t even looking at the camera, but you are laughing with such completeness that even the most critical soul can see the beauty - a beauty no pixel can contain.
So on this Gaudete Sunday, a Sunday in Advent that is set aside to rejoice, let us not only light a pink candle, I invite you to consider joy- the Joy of the Lord. What does that mean in your life?
What does that look like in our life together? How are you saying yes to joy, and how is God inviting you to see joy in new ways?
As one of my favorite commentaries says: “The text invites us out of our managed rationality to affirm that God does what the world thinks is not possible. Advent is getting ready for that impossibility which will permit us to dance and sing and march and thank and drink --- and live!”[6]
So let us embrace joy. Seek it. Allow it to inoculate us. That we would not be strangers but the best of friends in the province of joy.
To travel a holy way with glad song, joy everlasting on our heads, delight and joy attained, with sorrow and sighing have fled.
That sounds like good news to me and a way I want to travel with you. Alleluia. Amen.
[1] Alter, Robert. The Hebrew Bible: A Translation with Commentary. W. W. Norton & Company, 2018. Kindle edition. Locations 7930-7988.
[2] https://pres-outlook.org/2022/12/third-sunday-of-advent-december-11-2022/?cache_busting=6392369cdbedb
[3] https://mailchi.mp/7e6d2b336ff5/joy-like-water?e=fd1fd4259f Devotional for Saturday, December 10.
[4] https://thoughtcatalog.com/brianna-wiest/2017/11/this-is-what-self-care-really-means-because-its-not-all-salt-baths-and-chocolate-cake/
[5] O'Donnell, Angela Alaimo, The Province of Joy: Praying with Flannery O'Connor, Paraclete Press, 2012. Pages 15-16.
[6] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, James D. Newsome, TEXTS FOR PREACHING: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV, YEAR A, (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1995) page 21.
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