Joy

“But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see – I am bringing good news of a great joy for all the people” (Luke 2:10). You know this. “You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest…” (Isaiah 9:3). You’ve heard this. It’s on the decorations you bought at Wal-Mart. It is on the cards that pour through the mail. Even the ecards that sing a song and paint a picture. Joy is at the heart of this celebration. It rings in our ears and trips from our lips. Joy. It brightens our countenance and lifts our steps. Joy. It is undeniable and unavoidable. Joy.

Except for those for whom it isn’t. Undeniable and unavoidable. There are those who gather for worship this day who carry a hurt so deep that joy seems like an alien land. There are those who grieve so profoundly, perhaps silently and perhaps not, for whom joy seems like a slap in the face. It seems like an overlooking or forgetting of the loved one missed. There are those who face an uncertain future, who weep for injustice, who aren’t allowed to participate in the bounty of a wealthy nation; there are those for whom joy is a foreign language, unintelligible to their ears. And let’s be honest, in time, we will all travel those barren joyless lands. Joy seems such a fleeting thing, such an individual thing, such a temporary thing. We are all grown up enough to recognize joy is fleeting at best.

All of this begs the question, “What is this joy of which we speak?” Do we understand joy when we speak of it as powerful or temporary? Have we heard the angelic and prophetic message clearly in its entirety well enough to fully grasp the transformative power of joy? Not only do we, but can we? Is this joy something so beyond our human understanding that we can only aspire to comprehension in part? Maybe.

Maybe. But let’s listen again and see what we might say about joy on this night. The angels spoke to shepherds. We’ve all heard the stories of who the shepherds were in that culture. They might have been seen as outcasts, marginalized, unclean. But they might also have been businesspeople, making a living, providing an essential service. Either way, the angelic presence implied that there was divine inclusion of even these. “I bring you good news of great joy.” I bring you. Yes, you in your particularity. You in your grief or in your contentment, or maybe even both. You in your brokenness and wholeness, overlapping with overwhelming regularity in our lives. You who are the center of attention and you who don’t feel like you belong, even when that is the same person. I bring you great joy.

The first gift of Christmas: a proclamation not from a Santa at the north pole, but from heaven itself. The first gift of Christmas is joy. “I bring you great joy.” And you aren’t required to feel a certain way about it. You can, but you don’t have to. The gift is given just the same. It is yours. This wrapped parcel under the tree, or in the stocking, or just handed over with a breathless grin. Joy. It’s yours, but not yours alone. See, that’s the thing about this gift. It comes with attachments. Batteries are included. The angelic announcement was, “I bring you good news of great joy for all the people.” For all the people. Attached to this joy is something else, a world. Unity. Peace. Justice. Equality. Hospitality. Whew.

Joy is felt, but also lived into. Joy is gifted, but also aspirational. The message tonight is Emmanuel, God is with us. And that truth, that reality, imparts joy even to those who haven’t heard it yet. Joy is not our exclusive property. Acceptance is not our exclusive right. Justice is not just for people like us. Peace is not just that we are safe. The light is shining upon all, says the prophet. The world is brighter. We don’t all see it right now, just as they didn’t all see it then because there are some who want to block the light and keep exclusive rights to brightness. Some are so cast down that they can’t see the brightening sky. The light has shone, nonetheless. And people rejoice, will rejoice, can rejoice – sometimes prophets write in multiple tenses.

I know, I cheated. I left out the uncomfortable bit, “as people exult when dividing plunder.” What are we going to do with that? Not to mention the boots and warriors and garments rolled in blood. I’d rather not mention it. Except Isaiah did. It’s almost like the prophet can see the news we watch each day. It’s like the prophet can see the images of children, rolled in blood, and warriors marching, and boots stomping. The prophet can see what we see yet still proclaims joy. Maybe it’s a future joy. That at least would make some sense. Except the words are “have seen” and “have multiplied” and “have increased” and “they rejoice.” That doesn’t seem like the future. It seems like now, like this night, this moment.

Maybe joy isn’t an emotion or a feeling. Maybe joy isn’t elation or happiness but something much more profound. Maybe it is an act of faith. Maybe it is a prayer and a hope and an act of will. Maybe it is indeed that gift we are given and around which we wrap our hands and our lives, individually and corporately. It is a gift that we embrace with quiet acceptance and joyous proclamation. Emmanuel, God with us, is the great joy for all people. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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Rev. Dr. Derek Weber, Director of Preaching Ministries, served churches in Indiana and Arkansas and the British Methodist Church. His PhD is from University of Edinburgh in preaching and media. He has taught preaching in seminary and conference settings for more than 20 years.