Joy in Sorrow

 

Jesu Juva

Zephaniah 3:14-20                                                        

December 12, 2021

Advent 3C                                                    

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been feeling much Christmas cheer this year.  Our tree and lights have been up for a while now.  I’ve been listening to my Christmas playlist.  I went for a run through the first snowfall of the season on Wednesday morning last week.  I’ve even done a fair share of Christmas shopping already.  But “bah humbug” is what I’m feeling. And I think I’ve figured out why. 

          It seems I’m suffering from Weltschmerz.  It’s a German word.  And those Germans have a precise word for nearly everything, including my malady:  Weltschmerz.  It literally means “world pain,” or “world weariness.”  Weltschmerz is the pessimism which results from comparing the actual state of the world with an ideal state.  When you compare the way things are with the way things should be in a more perfect world, well, you’re often left feeling a little glum.  And that glumness is what the Germans call Weltschmerz.

          I suspect a lot of people deal with this around Christmas.  For each of us there is a real Christmas, which includes a lot of struggles and sorrows.  And then there’s the ideal Christmas, filled with joy and peace and goodwill toward men.  We want the joy without the sorrow.  As if joy was the absence of sorrow.  We sometimes think we can’t celebrate Christmas until we get rid of all the sorrow in our lives—to make room for the joy.  But this isn’t how God would have us prepare for Christmas—getting rid of the sorrow in our lives so that we might have Christmas joy.  So during Advent, on this Sunday especially, God invites us into the Scriptures, to teach us a thing or two about joy. 

          The pink candle on the Advent wreath reminds us that this Third Sunday in Advent is a Sunday of joy.  In the Collect of the Day we pray that Jesus would “lighten the darkness of our hearts.”  Each of today’s readings illustrates joy in a different way.  Consider St. Paul who writes to the Philippians and tells them, Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice!  Wonderful encouragement!  Perfect message for your Christmas cards!  That’s how Advent and Christmas should be—joyful! 

          But don’t dare forget the context of those words. Paul writes these words from prison.  Prison, for most people, would not be a place to be talking about joy.  If joy were the absence of sorrow, then there would be no joy in a letter from prison.  But even though Paul’s hands are chained, his heart is free in Christ.  Paul knows that joy isn’t the absence of sorrow.  Joy is found in the presence of the Lord—the Lord who is near us—the Lord who is with us, even in the midst of our sorrow.

          Or consider John the Baptizer, also suffering in prison, awaiting his execution.  He sends his disciples to Jesus with a question:  Are you the one?   But Jesus sends those same disciples right back to John with a song of joy on their lips from the prophet Isaiah: The blind see.  The lame walk. The dead are raised.  And good news is being preached.  If joy were the absence of sorrow, this would be a cruel joke.  While John is on death row, Jesus sends a message of joy!?  But Jesus is teaching us that joy is not the absence of sorrow.

          The same thing is happens in our Old Testament reading from Zephaniah.  Rejoice and exult with all your heart!  There doesn’t seem to be much sorrow in these words.  It seems to be all joy and praise and sunshine.  But these verses are only the concluding verses of Zephaniah’s prophecy.  The preceding portions of Zephaniah sound nothing like this text.  Devastating divine destruction, judgment, and overwhelming horror are the themes of Zephaniah’s prophecy.  Taken as a whole, Zephaniah (like all the rest of Scripture) is a strange mixture of sorrow together with joy.  But the joy is always found in the presence of the Lord who comes to us in the midst of our sorrow.

          Joy . . . together with . . . sorrow.  For the Christian, they actually go hand in hand.  Together, joy and sorrow tell the story of our salvation:   Christmas and crucifixion, sin and grace, death and resurrection, judgment and deliverance, joy and sorrow.

          The beating heart of all our joy is Jesus—Jesus, who bears the Father’s wrath for us—Jesus, who becomes the sacrifice that takes away our sin—Jesus, the presence of God (God with us) in the midst of our sorrow. Jesus’ suffering and death is the key to understanding how joy and suffering can be joined together.  The Son of God in joyful sorrow offers His life for you.  The Father, in sorrowful joy, receives you in grace because of His dying Son.  And when that Son rises from the dead and ascends into heaven and sits at the Father’s right hand, He still bears in His glorified body those wounds from His crucifixion.  And one day we will be privileged to see those wounds.  By those wounds we sinners are healed.  And in those wounds are mingled together terrible sorrow and great joy.

          This Jesus—wounded yet risen, crucified yet alive forevermore—this Jesus comes here to be with you.  The Lord is at hand.  Jesus comes to bring you joy—joy in the midst of sorrow and suffering.  This is what Zephaniah sings about in today’s reading—the presence of God together with His people in the midst of their suffering.  Zephaniah proclaims: The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with singing.

          As Christmas approaches and we prepare to sing “Joy to the world,” it’s important to understand the joy about which we sing.  This joy isn’t happiness, for happiness is just an emotion.  Happiness depends on the circumstances.  Nor is this joy always found in smiling faces.  This joy comes from Jesus—and this joy is always found together with sorrow.  We need to understand that—for ourselves and for those around us whose sorrow is great. 

          In my years as a pastor I’ve learned how difficult it can be for people with great sorrow to come to church.  I can think of parents who have lost a child—husbands and wives who have lost their spouse—good and faithful Christians—who found it difficult to come to church in sorrow.  They feel like they don’t fit in with their sorrow.  They feel like church is place for joy and praise and smiles and happy people; and they just don’t fit in.  We need to be careful as a congregation that we don’t celebrate joy as the absence of sorrow.  We do need to proclaim and show the joy of Jesus—Jesus who comes to us in our sorrow, who comforts us and brings us joy—joy together with sorrow.

          It’s for people like that—for people like us—that Jesus comes among us today.  Every time we gather here, there are joys we celebrate:  the birth of a child, a recovery from illness, a wedding anniversary or a birthday.  And, always, there are sorrows we mourn:  a death, a diagnosis, a loss of employment.  We bring all these joys and sorrows before God in prayer.  But in His Word, God brings us His Son.  In bread and wine, God brings us Jesus Christ.  And Jesus rejoices over you with gladness, and quiets you with His love.  This is the joy of Jesus.  And the joy that He brings—like the wounds He still bears—is a joy that will last forever. 

          In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.