FINDING REASON TO REJOICE

(Preached on Sunday, December 14, 2008)

And Mary said: AMy soul praises the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,...@                                                                   -Luke 1:46-47

 

Does anyone remember when the Sundays of the church year had actual, Latin names?  I don=t.  I know they were printed in some section of the hymnals in some traditions, but not in the Southern Baptist church of my childhood.  Those Latin names have fallen into disuse in almost all branches of the church these days.  But somewhere I learned and remember the name for this Sunday C the third Sunday in Advent.  It is called Gaudete Sunday.  Gaudete means Adare to rejoice.@

 

This is ADare to Rejoice Sunday.@  Is that possible this year?

Is there reason to rejoice?  Amidst the tremendous changes of this year it certainly feels as if we are facing an extremely uncertain, shaky future.  At such a time, dare we rejoice?  As polar bears die because glaciers have melted in the face of global warming, dare we rejoice?  As families remain refugees from homes destroyed by flooding, by earthquake, by war, dare we rejoice?  As the pain trickles up from the poor to the rich in a failing economy, dare we rejoice?

 

The times were not any better for Mary when she sang out her song of joy.  AMy soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior.@  Pure, unadulterated, spontaneous joy.  Mary=s reaction is truly amazing.  For the news she received from the angel which prompted this song of joy was not the best news for a young girl of 15.  In starkest terms, what we have here is a young girl, betrothed but not yet married, pregnant, who flees from her home village to spend time with an aunt or great-aunt.  Shades of the days when unmarried mothers-to-be were sent to relatives, or to a group home, to have their babies where they wouldn=t disgrace the family!

 

In Mary=s case, more than avoiding the wagging tongues of the townsfolk gossiping about her, she may also have left to avoid being stoned for adultery.  Remember that not much more than a month ago, a 13-year-old Somali girl was stoned to death for adultery, although she had actually been viciously raped.  If that can still happen after 2,000 years of supposed progress, imagine the likelihood of Mary getting a sympathetic hearing from her village patriarchs?

It is amazing the reception Mary receives from Elizabeth and her own response to that reception.  Elizabeth greets her enthusiastically and Mary responds with celebration and joy.  Instead of a conversation of shared self-pity; instead of a binge of whining about how cruel others can be; instead of tears, she celebrates the new life forming within her.  Instead of cowering in fear, Mary dares to rejoice! 

 

What enabled her to respond to God with such joy?  It was imagination and vision.  As we look at the words of her Magnificat we see her recalling the faithful ways God has cared for the people in the past and we see a vision of how God is caring for the people now and in the future.  She was able to rejoice in such a terrible situation because she looked forward to the promises of God for her future. 

In his pamphlet on the Magnificat, Martin Luther says that Mary speaks in her song of the six great works of God: mercy, breaking spiritual pride, putting down the mighty, exalting the lowly, filling the hungry, and sending the rich away empty.  If you were listening closely, I am sure you must be wondering, as I was upon first reading it, how Asending the rich away empty@ is a work of God.  It is certainly an idea contrary to that way our society thinks.  In our world you want to strive for wealth, if you cannot earn it, then play the lottery and maybe win it.  Either way, I don=t think there are too many people rejoicing right now in the stock market losing such value because Ait must be God working to send the rich away empty.@   So, how can that be a good thing?

 

There is a story from the 13^th century Franciscan tradition entitled True and Perfect Joy.  In the story, Francis asks his friend, Brother Leo, to tell a parable about the nature of joy.  Brother Leo proceeds to illustrate situations that might ordinarily be considered occasions for spiritual joy: all church officials are moved to join the Franciscan order; all nonbelievers are converted to the faith; miracles and healing take place everywhere.  True joy consists in none of these, Francis insists.  Instead, he presents the following image: he describes himself returning home to the friary in the dead of winter, exhausted, cold, and miserable and knocking at the brothers= door.  He asks for entry but is not recognized and shut out.  Attempting entrance again he is ridiculed and sent away.  If, in this situation he says, he has patience and does not get upset, that, Francis claims, is true joy.

 

The story suggests that true joy can be found in utter nakedness.  Like the naked, cross-hung Jesus, the saint so passionately loved and, in imitation of whom he choreographed his every gesture, Francis in the tale finds himself stripped of everything: physical comfort, shelter, recognition, community, identity itself.  He has nothing.  True joy, he says, consists in patient acceptance of his nakedness.

Such joy is truly a work of God, for it is not something we can achieve on our own, through the force of our will.  That is why Mary rejoices that God has sent the rich away empty.  Not out of some sadistic pleasure or some sense of revenge, but rather in acknowledging the salvation that means for the rich.  Throughout the Bible, those who have much are always in some difficulty.  This is because self-sufficient people find it hard to admit their need for God. Full hands, full stomachs, full spirits, can receive nothing, because they are already filled.

 

Mary could dare to rejoice because she had been emptied out.  Whatever hopes and dreams she had for herself, for her future, she had to let go of because of what God was doing in her, to her, and for her.  It was not what she had envisioned for herself, (I doubt she planned to have this pregnancy!), but in her journey to Elizabeth she had come to a place of acceptance of her circumstances, an acceptance of her own poverty.  This thrust her radically upon God in trust for her future.  Thus she dared to rejoice, for she had captured the vision of the future as God was bringing it forth.

 

So again, I ask, dare we rejoice this year?  We are not rich, but we are extremely full.  We are full of fears and worries for the future.  We are full of anxiety about whether we have enough: enough investments for retirement income, enough set aside to cover medical expenses, enough to provide a good college education for our children, enough  house, clothes, car, and vacation time, to enjoy a comfortable life.  We seem to have little image for the better future God is bringing forth.  Instead, we too often settle for giving our lives to the high stress aspirations and addictions of our upscale culture, squeezing in God, if and when we have time.

 

In light of all that, nevertheless, let us dare to rejoice.  In the midst of all circumstances, dare to rejoice, because daring to rejoice in God doesn=t minimize the pain of the past, or even the struggles of the present.  It doesn=t deny the labors of today or tomorrow, or the circumstances that might be lying in wait for us.  Daring to rejoice simply acknowledges that into those pains, struggles, and labors, God comes with salvation.

 

Into our Advent season, whatever the circumstances might be, feast or famine, God comes with salvation.  That salvation has many facets.  It comes in the words of scripture, in the melody of song.  We=ll find it in the touch of a friend, the prayers of a community.  It will be a card or a letter or a phone call; a ride to church, to the doctor, or to the grocery store.  It=ll be as simple as a child climbing into our lap, or the hug of a friend or a spouse.