This is my favorite Sunday in Advent: Joy Sunday! I love this moment in cyclical time, with the anticipation of Christmas Eve just around the corner and all of the decorations up and festive sweaters in full rotation. It follows the two Sundays of Advent during which tradition asks us to ponder the hope that we cling to and the peace that we so desperately desire and fervently work towards. Then… pink! Joy! Of blessings and belonging, of family and friends, of spirit and song. This Sunday gets its name from the Latin, “gaudete,” which means “rejoice,” from the introit to the day’s liturgy in the Catholic tradition: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice!”

This phrase is taken from Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, which he wrote from prison. The word appears 17 times in various forms throughout this short letter. Joy, even in the midst of suffering.
Henri Nouwen wrote about this tension of joy persisting, even when it should have been snuffed out. While happiness is dependent on external conditions, Nouwen writes, joy is something deeper. It 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. I remember the most painful times of my life as times in which I became aware of a spiritual reality much larger than myself, a reality that allowed me to live the pain with hope … Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day.”

Gaudete – Rejoice! is an imperative. This Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, is all about joy in the midst of everything… and there is a lot of everything. Today we are asked to rejoice and it feels almost like an act of counter-cultural rebellion.

Everywhere we look, around the world and even in our own hearts, there are reminders that joy sometimes feels evasive. Natural disasters, acts of human destruction, systems and practices and entrenched beliefs and behaviors that keep people oppressed and captive, trapped in poverty and hunger, disease and dislocation, violence and war.

Awareness of our shared crisis loom in our minds, but so does a sensitivity to the significant personal sorrow of many in our midst. Rev. Kathryn Matthews writes:
“While the church observes Advent, the world around us tells us to be joyful as we shop and clean, as we decorate our houses and fill up our calendars. But all around us are also those who carry heavy burdens of grief, depression, loss, illness, and financial worries. The holidays make these problems even more pressing.

There’s work to be done, needs to be met, and one piece of the good news is that there are workers to do the work. The ruins of our cities could be restored, if we truly experienced ourselves as a community and not as individuals looking out for ourselves and our own. Wouldn’t that be good news and a source of joy? Wouldn’t it be something to remember, and to sing about?”

It would, and it is.

I picked Aiyana up from school last Thursday and she hopped in the car and the first thing she told me was that at school she had seen pictures of hungry kids, “Mom, they were so hungry that they had big tummies full of air.” Taken a bit off guard, I answered something about that being why we donated food and money to help and before I got very far, she interrupted me and said “and that’s why you get mad at me when I waste food.” We talked about her feelings for a bit and then she was quiet for a bit longer and then this: “It’s ok, Mom, because Santa is coming.” I asked for clarification and, referring to our angel tree gifts, she told me… “That’s why we bought toys for the kids, so Santa can bring them lots of food.” Empathy and compassion, as simple as that. Joy.

Even as we wait for justice and peace, there is joy, and we light a cheerful rose-colored candle on the Advent wreath as a reminder that our waiting will not be in vain, something that Mary knew so well that in today’s scripture, she sings about it to her cousin, Elizabeth. Mary knew that joy has to be bigger than happy. Joy has to be life-giving and life-bringing. This knowledge was so sure within her, that she sang in the present tense. “God has scattered the proud, has lived up the lowly, has filled the hungry and sent the rich away with nothing.” It’s a counter-cultural, revolutionary song of joy!

The artist and writer, Jan Richardson reflected:
“In singing about how God turns the world upside down, [Mary] sings as if these things have already come to pass. In Mary’s chosen tense, God has already accomplished the righting of the world. Mary knew, as we know, that redemption and restoration was still a work in progress. But so transformed was Mary that she could sing of this as though it had already happened. She is remembering forward.
We have a fancy theological term for what Mary does there.
It’s called hope.”

And I would add that we can hold onto hope, at lease in part, because we know joy.

I believe that Jesus was a product of the parenting of his justice seeking, hope bringing, joyously revolutionary mother, and that she rarely gets enough credit. Roger Wolsey wrote an article titled: “Jesus’ Mom was a Punk” and I would like to share a bit of it with you. Before I do, I feel that it should be noted that Mary is the Greek transliteration of the Hebrew name, Miriam, from the verb מרה (mara) meaning to be rebellious or disobedient.

“Knocked-up, teen-aged Mary was the first punk singer and the first rock & roller. When she learned that she would bear the Christ-child, she sang a song. It was a song of praise. And it was a song of protest and rebellion. She celebrates that God is about to do something new in the world.
She was celebrating that God was about to turn the world upside-down, knock the wealthy oppressors off their pedestals, lift up those who’ve been oppressed, and usher-in a new reign of social justice and reconciliation.

After her son, Jesus, grew up and got baptized by his prophetic (and somewhat nutty) cousin John, he went back to visit the synagogue in his hometown of Nazareth and fulfilled what his mother had sung about 30 years before:
…He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:
“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
because he has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (referring to The Year of Jubilee which involved the redistribution of wealth and property, (Isaiah 61, Lev. 25)…

…Mary is sometimes referred to as “Theotokos” – the “mother of God.” I submit that Mary is also “Punkotokos” – mother of all rebels with a cause. I could elaborate about “this cause” that we’re invited to be a part of… Suffice it to say it has something to do with loving enemies, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, tending to the sick, visiting those in prison (Matthew 25:35-36), and proclaiming that a counter-cultural peasant (who taught assertive non-violent resistance and was executed) is Lord – and that Caesar (a euphemism for the worldly powers that be) isn’t. As AC/DC put it, “For those about to rock, we salute you!” Whether or not you consider yourself a Christian – Let’s rock people.”

Be joyful! Be joyfully rebellious, joyfully disobedient, and joyfully present in service to others.
I served at Grace Marketplace on Friday evening alongside a group of our youth and parents, and led by Dawn. All of the teens wanted to be on the serving line, and each one greeted each person they were serving with respect and warmth, “Which potato would you like, sir? Which vegetable looks good to you? You got it!”

It was the job of the person at the end of the line to place a brownie on the dinner tray and inform the guest of the socks assembled by this congregation that were being distributed outside. An adult (not from our group) wanted to take the place of our teen who was standing in that end spot because he felt that the people coming through the line might be “less than thankful.” I smiled as our teenager stood her ground. “I got this,” she said. Then, she turned to me and said “I think he is totally exaggerating. Should I say Merry Christmas? I’m going to say Merry Christmas!”

Every person was greeted with cheer and the invitation to pick-up a Christmas stocking. Care and grace, Joy.

As we left, a gentleman resident of Grace stopped us and pointed out a tree growing near the parking lot that they had begun to decorate. There was a bit of silver tinsel and a few simple, hand-made ornaments hanging on it. Several people were standing around the tree and admiring it. He continued, “If anyone at the church, maybe the kids or something, wanted to make us some ornaments, we would be grateful.” In his invitation, which was accepted, and in the beauty of the decorated, living tree, there was joy.

Joy may slip through our fingers in moments of profound grief, but it’s always there, like an invisible string pulling us towards the love that cannot be extinguished.

I feel akin to Mary this morning in my Elvin form as elves have been known throughout history to be a mischievous sort, and so, in the spirit of rebellion, I end today with one more singing of Mary’s song. You may have heard that the CDC has received a list of seven words that they are banned from using. The RevGalPals blog which I follow offered a challenge yesterday to preach these seven words as they speak so poignantly to the vulnerable among us. My favorite response was from Reverend Susan Russell, who used them all in this new Magnificat version:

He has cast down the mighty from their thrones of entitlement
and has lifted up the vulnerable.
He has filled the hungry with good things —
like an evidence/science-based strategy to end global warming —
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he remembered his promise of diversity,
the promise he made to our transgender siblings,
to Sarah and her fetus forever.