This past Friday, I experienced one of
those moments that convinced me that that God loves me. I was standing at a window overlooking a
little pond in our backyard, complaining on the phone to my friend John about
what a bad week I’d had. Out of the
corner of my eye I noticed three mallards coming in for a landing on the
pond. Unbeknownst to them, the pond had
a fresh, thin coat of ice on it following a night of subfreezing temperatures. One after another, as each mallard touched
down, it slid all the way down to the other end of the pond. I laughed out loud, prompting John to ask me what
was so funny, and when I told him, he laughed out loud, too. Don’t worry, the ducks were fine. Those three mallards reminded John and me
that joy can be found even in the most difficult times of life, not just any
old joy, but the kind of joy that comes only from God. Our readings this morning invite each of us to
live in God’s transcendent joy.
Our readings make no bones about it: God
wants us to rejoice: “Shout for joy;” Be glad and exult;” “Cry out with joy and
gladness;” “Rejoice always” – the call to rejoice in our readings is so strong,
it’s almost cloying. But our readings
aren’t Pollyannaish; they don’t ignore the challenges and suffering in the world. They call us to rejoice in spite of
them. We can only do that with a joy
that transcends pain and suffering, time and space, a joy that endures, no
matter what we face. We can only do that
with God’s transcendent joy.
So how do we get ourselves some of that
transcendent joy? We believe what our
readings tell us. Our first reading says,
“The Lord is in your midst;” our responsorial proclaims, “Great in your midst
is the Holy one of Israel;” Saint Paul tells us that “The Lord is near;” and in
our Gospel, John the Baptist announces that “One mightier than I is coming.” Rejoice!
Our God isn’t a distant God. Our
God didn’t set the world in motion and leave us to fend for ourselves. Our
God left his imprint on creation and made himself known to us through the prophets. Our
God became flesh and made his dwelling among us, living as we live; suffering
as we suffer; dying as we die. “Christ’s coming is not ‘after’ the suffering
ends, but within it.”[1]
What does that mean for us? It means that God is on our side. God is always seeking to carry us through the
times that aren’t so ducky and lead us into his transcendent joy. These consoling words don’t eliminate the
rude drama of life, but they give us every reason to rejoice in spite of it. You see, “Christian joy is independent of all
things on earth because it has its source in the continual presence of Christ.”[2] Put another way, we “Christians can never
lose [our] joy because [we] can never lose Christ.”[3] He never leaves us.
But to experience this joy, we have to
believe. “If we believe that the reign
of God is real and as near as our own hearts, we’ll become freer than we could
ever have imagined” (NCR 19). Yes, life
will not always go swimmingly, and we will
face suffering and someday even die. But
our faith tells us that suffering, despair, and death aren’t the end; there’s
more to come – and it’s nothing less than a life of everlasting peace, love,
and joy. “The eschatological dimension of faith makes the heart of the
Christian vibrate with joy.”[4]
Our faith, then becomes a self-fulling prophesy. When we believe in God’s promise of
everlasting life, when we believe that Christ is in our midst, we conform our
minds and hearts to God’s, and we experience God’s transcendent joy here and
now. “If we believe that we are standing
on the threshold of the reign of God, we will put on our party clothes”[5]
and rejoice.
That sounds great, but like the crowds,
the tax collectors, and the soldiers in our Gospel, we’re left with the
question, “What should we do?” Saint
Paul and John the Baptist give us the answer.
As Saint Paul tells us in his letter to the Philippians, we need to
pray. When we pray, we get our ducks in
a row, we shut out the noise of our daily lives and direct our consciences to God’s
movements in and around us. When we pray,
we remember that God’s love only ever
desires what’s best for us. We remember
that God’s wisdom alone knows what’s
best for us. We remember that God’s
power alone can bring about that
which is best for us.[6]
Prayer, then, leads us into God’s
transcendent joy.
While
Saint Paul gives us a spiritual approach to transcendent joy, John the Baptist gives
us a more tangible approach. John’s
words are surprising for their simplicity: We need to live a good life. “Do
what you are committed to do; be sensible, honest, and normal in your dealings
with other people, or, in a word, be human.”[7] Whether we like it or not, we humans are
created in the image and likeness of God, so we’re most human, and, therefore,
happiest, when we act accordingly. We
find our happiness, we find God’s transcendent joy in doing good.
This Third Sunday of Advent, Gaudete
Sunday, is a day of joy. It’s a good
time, then, to ask ourselves how people would describe us. Are we joy-filled people, or are we anxious,
overwhelmed, frustrated or even rude people?
Gaudete Sunday – 10 days from
Christmas – is a good time to make some serious decisions about how we live our
lives. It’s a good time to decide to
rejoice. Living in God’s transcendent joy
helps us experience the world differently.
It helps us feel God’s hand in those who love and care for us. It helps us hear God’s voice in the cry of
the poor. It helps us see opportunities
to dedicate our time, talent, and treasure to the well-being of others. And it even helped me out of my Friday funk in
the form of three unsuspecting mallards skating across an icy pond.
God’s little gift to me didn’t end
with that slippery landing. That trinity
of ducks decided that they preferred to swim where they initially had tried to
land, so they waddled their way back toward an opening in the ice, slipping and
sliding the whole way like clowns tripping over their oversized shoes. I laughed out loud again. Why do I think this was a gift from God especially
for me? Because I really needed a good
laugh, and I don’t believe in coincidences.
In my self-pity, I’d forgotten that, my bad week notwithstanding, I have
every reason to rejoice. I have a God
who’s active and present in my life, a God who’s always in my midst offering me
his eternal peace, love, and joy. I got
exactly what I needed in that moment – a reminder that the hardships, despair, and
challenges of this life dissipate like water off a duck’s back because they can
never overcome God’s transcendent joy.
[1]
Elaine Park, Konrad Schaeffer, Douglas Leal, Workbook for Lectors, Gospel Readers, and Proclaimers of the Word
(Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 2018), 12.
[2]
William Barclay, The Letters to the
Philippians, Colossians, and Thessalonians (Louisville: Westminster John
Knox Press, 2003), 88.
[3]
Ibid.
[4]
Park, 12.
[5]
Mary M. McGlone, “Joy: Metanoia in Action,” National
Catholic Reporter, November 30-December 13, 2018, 19.
[6]
Barclay, 91.
[7]
Park, 13.
