Joy, joy (Advent #11)

There is much talk about joy at Christmas. One of the most famous carols that we sing at this time of year is, of course, "Joy to the World", and for many, I suppose, Christmas is a joyful time.

But it's widely accepted that, for many, it also isn't joyful. Families come together to share food, but they do not always come together in spirit. Christmas can be more a time of squabbling than reconciliation. And for some Christmas does not bring them closer to their families because, for whatever reason, they no longer have a family. When a tragedy occurs this time of year the newsreaders bemoan its happening "this close to Christmas", a statement that is, on one hand, meaningless (a tragedy is terrible at any time of year) but also reveals the fact that the Universe does not instantly conspire to bring about happiness simply because it is Christmas.

To an atheist, this is further evidence that there is no God ordering things. To an agnostic, it might be further reason to withhold judgement. But to a believer, it need not be troubling, though for many it will be. We think that "joy to the world" means that we should somehow all be happy, all the time. I remember the first time I was unhappy on Christmas day, and I didn't know what to do with the feeling; it did not fit what we consider to be the purpose of the season. But the joy that the Gospel proclaims is a deep joy: one that transcends circumstances, one even that transcends emotions. I am naturally a fairly melancholy person. Over the past year I have been more melancholy than usual. But the Gospel has not failed. The joy the Gospel brings is not one that gives quick fixes or boosts in mood. It is a Gospel that gives a joy that nothing in this world - not family squabbling, not death, not depression - can squash.

In one of Jesus' first public statements, he read a passage from Isaiah which declared what he was here to do. The passage, in its original context, is rich with this deeper, abiding joy:

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim freedom for the captives

and release from darkness for the prisoners,[a]

to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor

and the day of vengeance of our God,

to comfort all who mourn,

and provide for those who grieve in Zion—

to bestow on them a crown of beauty

instead of ashes,

the oil of joy

instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise

instead of a spirit of despair. (Isaiah 61:1b-3a)

I would not say that I fully understand this. I would not say that at every moment I can physically feel the joy that Jesus' coming brings. I would not even say that I feel it terribly often at the moment. But that's okay. The joy that Jesus holds out is untouched. And one day, or night - we do not know - He will step down from the clouds, and sweep me up into His joy that He has been keeping waiting for me.