3rd Sunday of Advent, A December 11, 2022
Fr. Alexander Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
“Crowned with everlasting joy.” That’s what Isaiah the prophet promises us. Truly, that is the theme of this day – the joy of the Lord. Yet, that joy is not only something that comes in heaven. It begins here. That’s why the Church does this in Advent and Lent – two penitential seasons. Just over halfway through each one, we break from the purple to use the rose vestments and brighten up the décor and music. Today is Guadete Sunday and we ought to rejoice.
The challenge is, however, that we often do not understand what joy is. It’s not quite excitement, or comfort, or pleasure. It’s not quite an emotion. Perhaps its most striking feature is that it pops up in places where, by earthly standards, it makes no sense. Suffering. Pain. Difficulty. Grief.
Indeed, one of the most joyful days of my life was just a few months ago. What made that day joyful was the funeral of my grandfather. There were tears and weeping and grief. There were moments of realizing he’s really gone. But there was also joy. A mixture of conviction and a sense of something more than this world, this pain.
And it wasn’t like I decided it would joyful. The funeral looked like most others in terms of music and style, plenty of somber and serious moments. Indeed, other serious funerals have caused the same thing in me. But beneath it all was this abiding sense of rightness. Something fitting because it wasn’t the final word. Death is sad, but met with faith, it’s one of the places most likely to reveal true Christian joy.
This tells us something important about joy. Jesus says “blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.” That word “blessed” could also be translated “happy.” And this whole line a strange thing to say right after listing all the great miracles he’s been doing: the blind seeing, the lame walking, lepers cleansed, the deaf hearing, the dead rising to life again. Who would be offended at that?
Evidently, almost everyone. Because the miracles themselves weren’t the final word, they were only signs to us of the final word. When paired with the rest of his teaching, what people began to realize is that these momentary flashes of excitement and victory were only preludes to that other teaching: the cross. Yes, Jesus can overcome death and disease. What makes it so offensive that he doesn’t always overcome it here. In fact, he goes on to teach that his goal is to die. When a mere mortal tells you to embrace death, it’s easier to accept since there isn’t really a choice. But Jesus is no mere mortal. He does have the choice to live or die… and he chooses death. Why? Because the death he speaks of – death to self, bodily death, temporary death – lays the foundation for lasting joy and ultimately, to everlasting life.
This is why, on the Sunday literally named after joy, we get readings that talk about judgment, “hardship and patience,” and the imprisonment of John the Baptist. He may be the greatest born of woman, but Jesus the miracle-worker doesn’t even suggest the possibility of John getting out of prison. All his greatness is destined to end with death… and that’s precisely why we should be joyful.
Because that’s the way to the kingdom of heaven, where even the least are greater than John. My grandfather was a good man, but there will be no canonization for him. No one will call him a saint. Yet in the readings, prayers, and rituals of that funeral… in the stories of his often faulty, but very genuine attempts to love… in the fruitfulness seen in a large family that can spend the entire day together sharing those memories… there is an echo… a real tangible experience of what he’ll be in the kingdom. What we hope ourselves to be in that kingdom.
So what is joy? It is the experience of seeing clearly the outlines eternal goodness. And, in this life, it is often the dark backdrop of evil and death that makes those bright lines shine out all the more clearly. For all his severity, John the Baptist is a prophet of Joy because he proclaims to us in life and in death that love itself has entered into this dark world to draw those bright lines of hope for us.
What, then, does that mean for us? That we are called to be prophets of Joy. St. James the apostle and John the Baptist show us how.
“Be patient. Make your hearts firm.” Pointing to the example of farmers waiting for the crop – something that should be familiar to us – James indicates that a major part of our call is simply learning to wait well. There’s an art to this. It’s not merely forgetting about it until it happens. Neither is it anxiously turning it over and over again in your mind while you wait. Patience and firmness of heart is a kind of contemplative watching, a contented anticipation. A farmer will often look at his crop not just to see what needs to be done, but to gaze upon it and allow thoughts of what it will be to fill his mind. Look upon Christ. Contemplate him. The change from Advent to Christmas is not just arbitrary; there’s a real spiritual shift if you’re paying attention to it. Take some time to ponder what that might be like. Share that moment with others in a good meal, a fine drink, an evening of merriment.
“Do not complain about one another.” The fact that God became man means man has a profound dignity. To open ourselves to the joy of Christmas requires us to open ourselves to the goodness of human beings despite their limits and failures. Justice and correction have their place, but wallowing in complaints only steals joy from us.
Finally, embrace reality. John the Baptist’s genius is neither idealism nor penitential pessimism. It is wholehearted acceptance of the fact of a fallen world and wholehearted acceptance that God has a plan for its redemption. The kind of Joy that manifests in the midst of penance, that rises up through grief, that breaks out in great suffering comes from accepting that we are suffering but not accepting that suffering is all there is. Not bland optimism or looking on the bright side – it is honesty about the darkness and honesty that the light is more. John’s life ends in prison with an unjust execution, but it is full of joy. Why? Because the “one who is to come” had come and he knew that he – and all who believe – will soon be crowned. Not with temporary relief or fleeting emotion, but, when the darkness gives away at last, with everlasting joy. If you’re open to it, that joy has already begun.