Rejoice!

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.” Joy. Is that an emotion that most of us know well? How often do you feel joy? Not fleeting pleasure, but deep, overwhelming, abiding joy? Did you feel joy at the altar when you exchanged vows with your beloved? Did the mothers among you feel it when that tiny newborn was finally placed in your arms? Did you feel joy when your received the diagnosis you had hoped for or the degree you’d worked so hard for? When a friend or relative warmly embraced you after a long absence? When you finally turned your life around or got free of addiction to alcohol or drugs? Some of us clergy felt deep joy when the bishop and all the other priests laid hands on us in ordination. Do you ever feel joy in worship? Has God ever touched you in the middle of a hymn or at the altar? Do you even ever expect to feel joy? Or are you resigned to gray, low-key emotions?

In fact, right now Paul’s command to the Philippian Christians may seem almost impossible. Rejoice, you say?? Gracious and holy God, how can I rejoice? How can I rejoice when a man can walk into an elementary school and strike down teachers, staff, even children? “Our hearts are broken today,” said President Obama. And how can I rejoice when another gunman, someone whom neighbors described as a kind person, can open fire on Christmas shoppers in a crowded mall? How can I rejoice when someone – as yet unknown – can shoot at a car as it travels through a neighborhood intersection in Columbus? Dear God, when will this country, or even this state, have a sane gun policy and keep assault weapons out of the hands of all but law enforcement and military personnel? And how can I rejoice when people are still dying in Syria or eking out their lives in refugee camps? How can I rejoice when those whose homes, stores, and churches were destroyed by Hurricane Sandy are still wondering when, or even if, they will return to anything resembling normal life? Christmas may be only eight days away, but my heart is anything but merry.

The hearers of all of today’s Scripture texts would have understood my feelings. They too could have been excused for not feeling joyful. The prophet Zephaniah, the writer of our first lesson, was active during the latter half of the seventh century B.C, a time when the kingdom of Assyria controlled Judah and the surrounding countries. And it was a most desperate time. As the prophet warns his hearers in the first chapter of the book, “The great day of the Lord is near, near and hastening fast; the sound of the day of the Lord is bitter, the warrior cries aloud there. That day will be a day of wrath, a day of distress and anguish, a day of ruin and devastation, a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness, a day of trumpet blast and battle cry against the fortified cities and against the lofty battlements” (1:14-16). Over and over again the prophet reminds his hearers that they are reaping the consequences of their own sins, and that it is God’s judgment on their faithlessness that has brought the foreign rule they find so oppressive, and that has caused them such deep misery.

Those who heard the preaching of John the Immerser were also miserable. Their tiny country was under the thumb of the hated Roman Empire. They routinely endured harassment at the hands of Roman soldiers. They faced extortion and abuse from members of their own community who collaborated with the Romans in an oppressive tax collection system. The elaborate system of required purification and the expense associated with sacrificial animals kept temple worship out of the reach of those who were peasants and artisans. Prophets had been silent for more than a century. No wonder John the Immerser’s offer of a baptism of repentance attracted so many people. No wonder people began to whisper to each other, “Could he be the one to finally deliver us? Could this be God’s anointed one?”
Paul ought to have been the most miserable of all! When he wrote to the Christian community at Philippi, Paul was in prison, most likely in Rome awaiting trial and possibly a death sentence. He couldn’t be sure that the Christian communities he had helped to found would survive his death. How could he have been so upbeat? What reason did he have to rejoice – or to tell others to rejoice?

And yet. And yet there is a profound sense of joy in all these lessons. God’s condemnation of Judah’s faithlessness is not God’s last word to Zephaniah or his hearers. Even in the midst of national disaster God takes the long view, as God commands the Judeans to sing and shout for joy. God promises forgiveness and declares that God himself will rejoice over the restoration of Jerusalem: “he will rejoice over you with gladness,” the prophet sings, “he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing as on a day of festival.”

John’s message too is “good news.” Good news? Even though John called people who came to be baptized by him a colony of snakes, they were eager for his teaching. They flocked to hear him tell them not only to talk the talk, but to walk the walk and to turn their lives around in very concrete ways: the wealthy should share their possessions with the needy, the tax collectors should collect only the taxes that were actually due, and the soldiers should give up harassment and abuse. Most important, John also held out a promise to his hearers. John declared that he was only a warm-up act, that God was not only calling them to repentance, God would, through Jesus and the power that Jesus brought to them, enable them actually to make real change in their lives. God was even now, John declared, fulfilling God’s promises to God’s people.

In the midst of real turmoil, in the midst of captivity, destruction, and death, Paul is moved to prayer. As he prays he meditates on the community he has brought into being and understands himself united in Jesus in his suffering. Pressing on towards his goal of union with Jesus, he exhorts his hearers also to rejoice in Jesus’ victory and to pray. True joy, he reminds them, lies in realizing that Christ is now always near to us, with us in all our uncertainties and struggles, and that God is always ready to hear all that we ask for, whether it be for our families, for the victims of violence, or for our nation.

So where do we find true joy in our world? With cultural Christmas in high gear out there, with such stark reminders as we’ve had this week of the human capacity for violence and evil, how can we follow Paul’s exhortation to the Philippians and feel any joy at all? First of all, let me invite you to slow down. Stay here in this sanctuary a minute or two longer. Leave outside for a minute or two the chains of cultural Christmas, the grief and the mourning, and just breathe. Open yourselves to the possibility that God might come to you, that God and God’s prophets will call you to look at your life in a new way, and that God might enable you to make real changes in your life. Be patient a while longer, and let God nourish you. Stay in this oasis, this place from which all our celebration and service flows, and let God speak to you. Listen carefully as God reminds you that, in Christ, you and all God’s children are beloved. Receive God’s gifts to you, gifts that will last a lifetime: gentleness, contentment, thanksgiving, peace, and joy. And then thank God for calling us into covenant with God and for promising us restoration and renewal, for providing us with prophets, teachers, helpers, and friends who help us to experience renewal in our own lives, and for promising us that, when we are open to his presence, Christ is always with us.

Although this weekend our hearts grieve with all those in Oregon, in Connecticut, in Syria, and wherever there is violence in the world, yet we hear and accept God’s promise of joy. As we wait for God to fulfill God’s promises, we pray, in the words of Henri Nouwen,

Lord Jesus, master of both the light and the darkness, send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas.
We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day.
We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us.
We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom.
We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence.
We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.
To you we say, “Come, Lord Jesus!” Amen.