December 12, 2021 “Time for Joy” – Philippians 4:4-9

Philippians 4:4-9
“Time for Joy”
December 12, 2021 – Third Sunday in Advent

“So what’s with the pink candle?” Years ago, friends who were new to the liturgical church year wondered about the Advent wreath at our house. They said polite things, but obviously thought we just ran out of purple candles and couldn’t be bothered. Even this morning someone might have wondered why we have this mismatched set of candles up front. The simple answer is that the pink candle is for joy, but why is a longer story.

Purple is the color for the season because Advent was first considered to be a kind of mini-Lent, a spiritual preparation like the season before Easter. We repent of our sins, fast, and seek to change our behavior for the better. The roots of Advent go back to the fourth century. A canon of the Council of Saragossa in 380 AD required the faithful not to be absent from worship for three weeks beginning December 17 until Epiphany on January 6. The first clear reference to a four-week Advent season appears in the sixth century when the Council of Tours in 567 required monks to fast every day in December until Christmas.

It started out as a time of spiritual discipline, serious and a bit difficult. We heard that sense of the season in the Gospel lesson from Luke 3 this morning—John the Baptist excoriated the crowds and exhorted them to share and be honest and be content with what they have. A somber purple color reminds us to be thoughtful and disciplined in this time.

Yet the other three texts for this third Sunday in Advent sound a different note. Isaiah tells us to, “Shout aloud and sing for joy…” Zephaniah also invites us to shout and “Be glad and rejoice with all your heart…” And the text for the sermon today from Philippians 4 begins, “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!”

Which brings us back to that odd-man-out pink candle. To start with, the color is, more properly, “rose.” It arises out of a celebration Sunday of joy in the midst of longer times of fasting and penitence. Again, it started in Lent, the fourth Sunday, which was Laetare Sunday, from the opening words of the day’s Scripture, “Rejoice (laetare in Latin), Jerusalem!” On that Sunday the clergy changed from purple to rose colored vestments. The pope may also have given a rose to each bishop and priest as a further symbol of joy.

That joyful “break” in the Lenten fast was carried over to the Advent fast on its third Sunday and eventually became symbolized in a rose-colored candle. In Latin this third Sunday was named by another word for joy, gaudete, “Gaudy Sunday” in popular English usage. So here we are lighting a gaudy pink candle and thinking about joy this Sunday.

Since Advent candle lighting probably began in Germany, you can imagine a hungry monk or a weary German pastor got tired of the fasting and the penitence and the purple, read these texts, and decided to make this Sunday different. So he lit a pink candle instead of a violet one, poured himself a cup of beer, and sat down to a big plate of wiener schnitzel and sauerkraut, all the while whistling some happy tune instead of a mournful chant. And we’ve been lighting pink candles on the third Sunday of Advent ever since.

I’m afraid that pink color makes my mind drift back to happy, joyful Christmases when little girls rejoiced to unwrap gaudy pink and purple plastic ponies and mermaids. Once there was an incredibly pink “Barbie Magic Motor Home” under the Christmas tree. Our little Susan had no interest in Barbie dolls, but she desperately loved that hideously colored plastic replica of a recreational vehicle.

Yet even in those sweet memories comes a twinge of what that pink pillar of wax in the midst of purple also means. It’s frequently not easy to rejoice. We may have memories of joy, but they only seem to make present gloom a little darker by comparison. As I said last week, Paul knew that only too well as he sat writing this letter from prison. He could rejoice in his memories of the Philippians but then had to look up into the face of the soldier guarding him or down at the chains on his ankles.

If anything, like many of us may be tempted to in these days of pandemic and politics, Paul might have given into anger rather than joy. He had done nothing that deserved incarceration. He was no danger to the emperor or to society around him. Yet there he was, locked up while a corrupt legal system ground out his case. It would have been easy for him to be furious rather than joyous.

That is why Paul follows his exhortation to rejoice in verse 4 with a direction in verse 5 to “Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near.” It’s hard to be joyful when you are angry, but it’s hard to be angry when you are trying to be gentle to those around you. It’s easy for me when driving to or from home to be angry at the person tailgating me up or down our steep curvy hill. But when I turn to gentler thoughts about that other driver, consider why he or she may be in such a hurry, what circumstances might make one so impatient, it’s a little easier to let my wrath go and think more joyful thoughts.

After saying, “Let your gentleness be known…” he says, “The Lord is near.” It could be just a simple warning like we give kids about Santa Claus. “Behave yourselves and treat each other nice, because Santa is watching. If you’re mean, you may end up with coal in your stocking.” So we Christians ought to behave ourselves and treat others gently because Jesus is near. He’s coming soon and will judge us all.

Yet we can also read it to hear that “The Lord is right now near.” He is present with us on the road with that other driver. He is here in the kitchen with us as tempers rise in a family argument. He is here with us as political differences flare and threaten to divide us from friends and co-workers. Our gentle Lord is here, expecting us to imitate Him in showing gentleness to others.

A gentle spirit will also help us with the next simple but oh so difficult direction in verse 6. “Do not worry about anything…” You might resist that as the foolish notion of a male human being who just doesn’t get all there is in life that demands our worry. But remember again where Paul is. He is jailed awaiting trial. He has appealed to the emperor and that emperor was not some wise benevolent judge. Paul’s emperor was the cruel and capricious Nero, who not only crucified Christians and had them torn apart by wild dogs, he had them set on fire to provide illumination at his nightly parties. Paul had as much and more than you or I to worry about.

One way to hear that command not to worry is that just by telling us not to worry about anything, Paul acknowledges how many worries we have. We are anxious and nervous and tired and lonely and sorrowful. Yet in the middle of it all, like a pink candle in the middle of purple ones, comes an invitation to rejoice. Christmas joy, the joy of Christ our Savior, comes to us right in the middle of our sorrows and anxieties.

Just a few months ago, most of us expected to have fewer COVID-19 worries than we did last year. Just a year ago, our sanctuary was dark and empty on Sunday mornings. Many of you watched as Beth and I lit an Advent wreath each week in our homes. But it was not really the same. This year feels better. We gather amid beautiful, rosy red poinsettias and under the gorgeous Christmas tree on which a couple of you splurged for us this year. It’s easier to be joyful because Gaudy Sunday really is gaudy this time!

Yet we all know how it really is. We’re not quite sure what the Omicron variant is going to do this winter, and it’s already making travel more complicated. We hear news stories about full hospitals and young people dying in Michigan. Prices for things like food and fuel and housing are rising faster than they have in forty years. And the people in government who are trying to find ways to make things better are constantly contending with others in government and media who only want to inflame hatred and division and grab for power in the conflict which results. We have our own “Nero”s to worry about.

So we have some feeling for just how strange it is for the pink candle to pop up on this Sunday, when we’re seeing a lot of sad purple out there around us. Yet pink it is. In our readings today, God invites us into joy. Over and over, we’re told to rejoice. We’re told that joy is available to us, that joy is coming to us. Even hairy, grumpy old John the Baptist, with all his warning and exhorting and rebuking, was preaching “good news,” says Luke.

That’s why Paul tells us how to handle our worries in the rest of verse 6. “Do not worry about anything,” yes, “but [then] in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” As we’ve been saying and sharing, there are many ways to engage in Advent observance, to wait for Christmas, wait for Jesus well. We’ve handed out devotional booklets. We’ve invited you to be like St. Nicholas and give gifts. We’ve encouraged you to join in making music of the season. You could fast like Christians have for centuries. But most of all, if you observe Advent in no other way, pray. Bring all those worries, and, says Paul, all the things you have for which to be thankful, bring them to God in prayer. That’s the way to light a warm pink candle of joy in your heart when the world around you is burning a cold, purple light of danger and strife.

The good news John told the crowds by the River Jordan was that Jesus is coming. That same good news about Jesus allows you and I to rejoice in purple times. Jesus now has both come to us with love and grace and He will come again with peace and justice for our world. So verse 7 points us into that peace which Jesus brings. As we wonder how the problems we face personally and which we face together can ever be fixed, we are overwhelmed. We and those we elect to serve may do our best, but real and true solutions are beyond our grasp, beyond our understanding.

Paul asks us to pray and be thankful, to make our requests to God, but much of the time we can’t really see how God is responding. We can’t really comprehend how the messes we find ourselves in are supposed to be answers to our prayers. That is why verse 7 promises that, “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

Fred Craddock suggests we take that “guard” in verse 7 as a military sort of image. In Jesus Christ, our Lord posts sentries around our souls, ready to ward off and protect us from all those forces and thoughts which would like to destroy our peace, which would come in and take away the gentleness we want to show, which would ruin our joy.

That’s why I’m going past the lectionary text for two more verses. In verse 8 Paul gives more specific form to those peaceful guardians around our hearts and minds. He gives us better things to hold in our hearts and ponder in our minds than that which worries and troubles us. He doesn’t mean us to forget about and ignore sorrow and pain. He wants us to do what we can to help others and make our world more just and peaceful. Yet he also invites us to think long and deeply about things like this for Advent and Christmas:

“Whatever is true.” The truth, the fact is that the Son of God was in reality born as an infant, as one of us, long ago. It’s not just a pretty picture on Christmas cards, it’s the truth that changes the world. His truth changes our lives from purple to pink, from sorrow to joy. Let us think about that truth.

“Whatever is honorable.” In His birth, Jesus sacrificed the glory and honor of His throne in heaven for a straw bed in a stable. He gave up honor in order to humbly honor our humanity. The honor of His humility brings us hope and peace and light in our darkness. Let us contemplate our honorable Lord.

“Whatever is just.” When Mary came with Jesus in her womb to visit Elizabeth, she sang a song about God bringing justice and equity to the world, casting down the powerful and lifting up the lowly, feeding the hungry and sending the rich away. Let us meditate upon how our Savior Jesus did what is just in order to make us and our world more just.

“Whatever is pure.” Let us again remember the Virgin Mother and her quiet love for her Child. We Protestants may not be so familiar with it, but through the ages a contemplation of the pure heart and life of Mary has inspired Christians to seek purity and holiness in their own minds and hearts and lives. Let us sit with such thoughts for a while.

“Whatever is pleasing.” Indulge in the joy of songs about a sky full of angels singing God’s praise. Look at some of the art Terry shared of beautiful images surrounding the Christmas story, like the animals who quietly attended the manger and the star that shone over Bethlehem. Reflect for a while on those pleasing songs and pictures.

“Whatever is commendable.” Think of rough, temporarily homeless shepherds who heard an unbelievable message but believed it any way. Pause and consider how quick they were to believe. Then pray for the same kind of commendable willingness to trust God and go wherever He directs us.

“Any excellence.” Ponder the excellent grace of God which came down to us in that precious baby. His excellent salvation cost Him humiliation, suffering, and a Cross. He gave it all to us without any price or payment on our part, but completely free. Dwell on that excellent, excellent gift and consider how you might give yourself back to Him.

“Anything worthy of praise.” Our Savior Himself is the One who is praiseworthy. Think about His miracles, about His teaching, about His compassion. Think about His selfless suffering and think about His glorious Resurrection. Think about Jesus, worthy of all honor, all glory, all praise. Think about Jesus most of all.

Paul concludes these thoughts in verse 9 by inviting his readers—and us—to “keep on doing” whatever we’ve learned or heard from him, or seen him do. Yes, think about the things we’ve just named, but then let thinking become action. Let contemplation become practice. Let gratitude become giving.

“Keep on doing…” says Paul, and so you have done. You’ve comforted the grieving. You’ve given to the needy. You’ve prayed for the sick and the heartbroken. Now as you think about true, pleasing, good things, may you be renewed by thoughts of why we pray and give and serve. May you be filled with grace and blessing and joy.

There’s one last joy to think about. Verse 7 is our benediction today “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” Yet the end of verse 9 makes that peace better and deeper. Jesus came as Immanuel, “God with us.” He came from heaven to be with us. He still is. The last thought for today is not just “the peace of God” guarding us, but now, even better, if we can only feel it, “the God of peace will be with you.” In Christ, God Himself is with you. Think about it. And rejoice.

Amen.