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Rev. Dr. Jan Gregory-Charpentier

Kingston Congregational Church
Dec. 13, 2020

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

Psalm 126
Luke 1:46-55

Songs of Joy

On the third Sunday of Advent, we light a candle named Joy. And our

Advent scriptures are full of joy. Isaiah reminds us that God’s Anointed One

comes to us bringing good news, glad tidings and “the oil of gladness instead

of mourning.” The psalmist remembers for us the joy of God’s saving grace:

“When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy.”

Mary’s joyous song, the Magnificat, pronounces a world-shifting joy. Perhaps

this year, more than most, we need to remember joy; we need to be

reminded that the joy of the Lord is our strength.

But joy, such as Isaiah foretold or Mary sang, is so much more than

holiday cheer and season’s greetings. The joy they speak of is

transformative: joy that changes those who possess it and perhaps even

changes the world. Isaiah foretells jubilee, the year of the Lord’s favor, when

wrongs are righted, and debts are cancelled, and those in bondage are set

free. This isn’t the joy of the familiar, the known, the comfortable; this is the

joy of transformation, wrongs being righted, burdens lifted, freedom

restored. Those who receive this good news, who take this joy to heart, will

be called oaks of righteousness, showing forth the glory of God and

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rebuilding the world around them. This is the joy we invoke in Advent. Joy to

the world that renewal and redemption are possible; that there really is an

answer to the oppression of the world; that true healing and comfort are

available for our broken bodies and hearts; that a world held captive to sin

and selfishness might really be free at last, free at last, thank God, almighty

free at last. The gifts offered by God’s messiah are not gadgets and gizmos,

but comfort and joy, good news and a promise of the world restored.

And that is the source of our joy. The apostle Paul famously

encouraged his churches to “rejoice always…” He wrote those words to the

Thessalonians and the Philippians, churches that were struggling to survive,

struggling to keep the faith, struggling with doubt and questions in light of

the suffering they saw around them and experienced in their own bodies. We

“rejoice always” not because life is easy and we haven’t a care in the world;

but because the One who calls us is faithful, will not forget nor forsake us,

will work in us and in our world the ways of salvation. The joy we harbor goes

much deeper than simple happiness. Happiness will come and go, and I wish

you much of it. But more than happiness I wish you joy. Because joy, a fruit

of the Spirit within us, cannot be taken away. And joy, Isaiah and Mary knew,

is powerful stuff. Joy refuses to be cowed by circumstance. Joy puts up fierce

resistance in face of persecution. Joy is rooted in the deep soil of God’s heart

and when our roots are grounded in that rich stuff, the strongest wind, the

most violent storm might shake but cannot move us. Jesus said to his

disciples, “These things I have spoken to you that my joy might be in you
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and your joy might be full” (John 15:11).

Yvonne Dilling, a church worker from Indiana, who spent time in

Salvadoran refugee camps in Honduras during the time of much violence and

heartache in El Salvador, tells the story of one group of Salvadorans that fled

from their village and across the Lempa River to Honduras, while helicopters

strafed the shores. People died in the crossing. But when the refugees

reached Honduras and set up camp, their first action was to form three

committees: a construction committee, an education committee, and EL

COMITE DE ALEGRIA, "the committee of joy." Celebration was as basic to the

life of the refugees as digging latrines and teaching their children to read.

Even in exile, they remembered to build and plant and dance. 1

Earlier in the COVID pandemic, in the spring, when many countries,

especially in Europe, were experiencing high rates of infection and going into

lockdown, screens gave us glimpses of neighbors in high rises singing opera

out their windows in Italy or performing violin concerts in Spain, while

listeners leaned over their railings or couples danced on their balconies, Here

and now, even as the weather becomes less amendable to outdoor

festivities, we are still finding ways to create and celebrate joy: Zoom

parties, fire pit gatherings, virtual choirs, cookies baked for hard-working,

non-profit heroes and pizza box Advent kits delivered to doorsteps. Was

there ever a year in your life that Christmas cards felt more treasured or

needed? The Christmas cards I’m sending this year have one word on the

front, and that word is “joy” and in the circle of the ”O” is a manger. Come,
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Joyce Holladay, “A Joyful Noise” Sojourners
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Christmas Eve, the story we’re telling, the story we’re building up to week by

week in Advent, will break out into full-on joy: the angels will sing of “joy to

all people;” the shepherds will rejoice and praise God for all they had seen

and heard, and we’ll sing “Joy to the World the Lord is come.” But even

before we get there, even now, in the midst of this purple season, in the

midst of a purple world, we claim joy. Music, art, friendship, poetry, nature,

laughter, beauty, God with us: these gifts are not perishable, are not

restricted, are not diminished by pandemic; changed, maybe, but not

destroyed. These gifts light a candle in us and ignite joy. Not because life is

easy or unacquainted with grief, but because all the grief we know, all the

grief we’ve lived through, all the grief we’ve survived has not extinguished

our joy. Like the story of Hannukah that our Jewish neighbors are

remembering this week, we celebrate a light that continues to burn even in

the darkest times.

Interesting that no language has as many words for joy and rejoicing

as does Hebrew. “In the Old Testament, thirteen Hebrew roots, found in

twenty-seven different words, are used for some aspect of joy or joyful

participation in religious worship…In contrast to the rituals of other faiths of

the [Ancient Near] East, Israelite worship was essentially a joyous

proclamation and celebration. The good Israelite regarded the act of

thanking God as the supreme joy of [their] life.” Even as a community and

people well-acquainted with suffering and grief they never forgot that God is

the source of joy. The psalmist says, ‘Thou dost show me the path of life; in
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thy presence there is fullness of joy, in thy right hand are pleasures

forevermore.’ (Psalm 16:11)”i

The joy that Isaiah announced, that Mary sang, is a profound joy that

defies circumstance, because it is not beholden to circumstance. It is the joy

of Emmanuel, the good news of God-with-us, not just brightening a season,

but changing our lives and our world forever. It is the joy of God’s Anointed

One who comes “to preach good news to the poor, proclaim release to the

captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are

oppressed, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord”(Luke 4:18). Weeping

may last for a nighttime, but joy comes in morning. So, let us rejoice. Rejoice

always. The joy of the Lord is our strength. Jesus intends for us fullness of

joy. So, go dance on your balcony, read bedtime stories to your grandkids

over Zoom, send Christmas cards celebrating friendship, bake cookies, light

candles, and stubbornly, faithfully, defiantly claim joy. That joy, Mary tells,

can turn the world upside down.

Amen.

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King Duncan, “Be Joyful” esermons.com