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Philippians 4:2-9 · Exhortations
Joy on an Elephant
Philippians 4:4-7
Sermon
by Mary Austin
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On this third Sunday of Advent, we hear again from Paul’s letter to the believers at Philippi. Many scholars believe that he wrote this letter from prison, perhaps even during his last prison term in Rome, before his death, but we don’t know for sure. It’s clear that he wrote from a prison cell somewhere, and that he wrote about his deeply held idea of cultivating joy in all things.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:4-7)

In a TED Talk, Caroline Casey recalls getting the shock of her life when she was seventeen. She had plans to become a race car driver, a cowgirl, and Mowgli from “The Jungle Book.” All of her dreams, she says, were about being free, having the wind in her hair and an adventure on the way. When she was seventeen, she accompanied her little sister, her visually impaired little sister to the eye doctor, just there to be a supportive big sister. This was part of their regular routine. Caroline Casey would pretend to get her eyes tested, too, as part of her support. The eye doctor knew it was her birthday, and asked what she was going to do to celebrate.

“Take a driving lesson,” she told the doctor.

The eye doctor turned to her mother and said something mysterious. “You still haven’t told her yet, have you?” That was the day she learned she was, and had always been, legally blind. Her parents had decided not to tell her, not to put her in a special school, not to have her live with any labels or limitations. This was their unique decision — every family makes the decision that’s right for them and their kids. They wanted her to grow up, and figure out how to live in the world, on her own. For them, it was important that she be defined by her possibilities, not her limitations. As Caroline Casey says, “they gave me the ability to believe, totally, to believe that I could” (Ted Talks, August 10, 2017).

We’ve all had moments like her moment of shock, where despair rises up in us.

In your life, it might be a divorce, or the loss of a job. It might be losing your home or finding out that your child is in trouble. The death of a parent or sibling can knock you to your knees. Illness can shake everything up, as can the loss of a partner.

The author of this letter to the Philippians, Paul, has been knocked around himself, too. He has dealt in violence, and been beaten up and ostracized, kicked out of towns and sent on the run. But in today’s reading, we hear Paul telling the church — and us — to rejoice. We overhear him telling the little church at Philippi to choose to live with joy. “Rejoice in the Lord always,” he reminds them, emphasizing his point by saying it all twice.

This third Sunday in Advent is dedicated to joy. It’s called the “Joy Sunday,” and it’s the “pink candle Sunday” on the Advent wreath. This week, we shift out of the somber tone of Advent, and turn our attention to joy.

We know Advent as a quiet season — a time of preparation for Jesus’ coming. The hymns are reflective. We’re supposed to be quiet and reflective. This season is supposed to create sacred space in us, so we have room for the presence of Jesus. When he’s born again into our world, we want to be ready to receive him.

Unfortunately, Christmas gets in the way of Advent.

The office parties, mandatory family gatherings, shopping for gifts and groceries all create a feeling of hurry, instead of reflection. Our long lists and busy schedules to get ready for Christmas keep us from getting ready for Jesus. By this time in December, we’ve been hearing Christmas carols for so long that our ears are dull to them.

Rejoicing is the farthest thing from our minds.

We would happily trade rejoicing for completion. If we could only check a few things off the list, then we would rejoice.

But our faith calls us to stop and rejoice…even in Advent…even in the midst of our preparations. So, if God has placed the work, the joy, the pleasure of rejoicing at the top of our to-do lists, how do we manage it?

First, what can we jettison from our lists? What can we cross off right now, with a huge sigh of relief? What Christmas tradition is no longer giving us joy? Is there something it’s time to stop doing? Is there something to move to February, when we’re all bored, cranky, and need something fun to do? We have permission. God wants us to rejoice, not to be mired in things we have to do.

Second, what really makes us rejoice? Is it making something out of wood? Is it the carols? Is it the baking? Could it be getting together with college friends for a once-a-year cigar and bourbon day? Perhaps it is taking the kids to the mall to see Santa? What brings you joy at this time of year?

If we don’t even know any more, if Christmas has so taken over Advent that we’re not sure, we can take some wisdom from our young friends. Watch them run, full-on, toward something they’re excited about. See them bouncing up and down with anticipation. Listen to how their thrilled voices get louder and louder.

What would make you feel that way this Advent? What would give you that kind of joy?

Whatever it is, God is inviting you to pursue it — this Advent, and beyond. God invites you to cultivate joy in your life, instead of distraction and hurry and worry.

Lord knows, there’s plenty to get in our way.

It’s not just the things we have to do.

Life itself gets in the way. We are shadowed by depression, broken by grief, frantic about paying bills, anxious about our jobs, and terrified for our kids.

And in the middle of all that, Paul tells us, as people of faith, to rejoice. Always. No matter what. He’s a little nuts to ask this, but the man knows what he’s talking about. Paul has been beaten and jailed, criticized and mocked, as an apostle for God. He knows something about rejoicing always.

Caroline Casey is another poster person for rejoicing always.

In her TED talk, she says that her parents, knowing that she was blind, taught her to live with a kind of dogged determination. Her father taught her how to sail, even though she couldn’t see the sails or the shore, or where she was going. “But,” she says, “he told me to believe and feel the wind in my face.” That was enough to keep her going, and she says, “for the next eleven years, I swore nobody would ever find out that I couldn’t see, because I didn’t want to be a failure, and I didn’t want to be weak.” She chose unusual careers. She became an archaeologist, and ended up breaking lots of things. She managed a restaurant, and ended up slipping a lot.

Finally, she wore herself out. She was working for a fast-paced consulting firm, and finally had to ask for help. Admitting failure is tremendously hard. Pretending there’s nothing wrong is exhausting. Being a whirlwind grows tiring, after a while.

Finally, years later, she went to see an eye specialist.

This doctor didn’t bother testing her eyes. Instead, the doctor asked questions like: “Why are you fighting this so hard?” And “Do you love your job?” And “When you were little, what did you want to be?” The doctor suggested, gently, that she try something else.

Try something else? She had been trying so hard already. She crashed — emotionally, and then physically, falling in a place she knew well. In the tears and the pain, she started to think about what she had wanted to be when she was young. Being a race car driver was clearly out, but Mowgli from “The Jungle Book” was still an option. She had never been to India, didn’t speak Hindi, and knew nothing about elephants, but she was determined to ride one.

“Nine months later,” she says, “I had the only blind date in my life with a seven-and-a-half-foot-tall elephant called Kanchi. And together we would trek a thousand kilometers across India.”

That trip turned out to raise a lot of money for cataract operations — enough for 6,000 people to see. She set up a non-profit devoted to elephant conservation. Disability, she says, is always like an elephant in the room, but it has also become a place where she feels at home. In embracing all of herself — energy, passion, and disability — she tapped into a deep, living joy within herself. On the way to her TED talk, she used her white cane, the symbol of the disability she tried to escape for so long — and guess what? It allowed her to avoid a lot of lines at the airport.

In being truly ourselves, the people God created us to be, there is the deepest joy we know. In embracing our whole lives, happiness and sorrow, grief and delight, failure and success, we come into God’s presence as whole people. And there, joy is our gift, the gift that no one can rush us through, or wear out, or take away.

In the name of the joy-giver, Amen.

Prayer: God of mystery, our lives hold sorrow and worry, and yet, underneath it all is your promise of joy, ready for us to reach out and grasp it. We thank you for leading us always toward deep joy, no matter the outer appearance of our lives. Teach us to let go of perfection, and stress, and expectation, so we can hold out our hands and receive your gift of joy. In the name of Jesus, our Redeemer, Amen.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Meeting God at the mall: Cycle C sermons based on second lessons for Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany, by Mary Austin