Isaiah 7:10-16
Matthew 1:18-25

Signs of Joy

by David Parks-Ramage

December 23, 2001
 


As I sat up here last Sunday I saw it happen: sometimes Joy just breaks out, unrestrained, unfettered — alive.

It was during the prelude. A young girl was walking down the aisle with her parents — Larry was playing the French carol, "Light a torch, Jeanette Isabella."

I was remembering 7th grade French, singing for Mrs. Florence, "Une flambeau Jeanette Isabella" as Larry played. I thought what a wonderful piece for the organ, with interesting rhythms, a playful piece.

Then I saw it happen: her head started to move in time with the music, then her arms and legs, soon she was hopping/dancing down the aisle, a smile on her face. She seemed to enJoy the music, she was in Joy.

And then I looked around the room here. What a privilege it is to look around this room on a Sunday morning for you, too, were responding to the music, were nodding your heads, smiling.


What is it that moves through us?

Catching the melody, the beat, until we find ourselves moving, jumping — the place is jumping.


What is it that moves through us?

It's a summer night in July. We hear the rain as it begins to spatter on the rooftop. We leap out of bed, run into the night barefoot, as the rain washes over us, shouting out loud, praising the wetness, praising the night.


What is it that moves through us?

As we look into the eyes of one beloved — sensing the sacredness of this moment now.


There are experiences in life that defy expectations, which defy the circumstances around us.

Our country is at war, we worry about flying in an airplane, yet tomorrow night we will join with family and friends, sing "Joy to the World" at the top of our lungs, and mean it.

There are experiences which like the transporter in a Star Trek movie seem to take us up and out of ourselves, our concerns, our worries and cares and into Joy. This Joy moves through us, so, like this child, un-self-consciously, we are bouncing down the aisle.

What is it, this Joy, that moves through us — individually and collectively — that allows us to lay claim to Life, the mystery of our being, the wonder of living?


This is Joy Sunday. So, we'll talk about Joy, but not a Joy that is insensitive or unaware of the suffering that can be such a part of this season, part of life. No, not a cheap Joy — a Joy that pays no price — no, but a Joy like the gospel singer on Sunday mornings, somebody say Amen — the same gospel singer who spends her Saturday nights singing the blues across town in the roadhouse.

This is a Joy that knows sorrow and suffering. A Joy that knows of hungry babies, of homeless families, a Joy that knows about wars and rumors of war, but a Joy that somehow, by the grace of God, can still get up on Sunday and sing Alleluia to life's abundance — because with God there is hope. This is a Joy that can embrace small hopes: like a baby laid down for the night in a place where animals feed.

So, we come from our lives to this place. We carry our hopes and dreams, we carry our fears and sorrow — and here all about us are these signs of Joy. Signs of Joy.

Adam told us last week about the unending love of God in a circle like a wreath.

Signs of Joy

— the lights on the Christmas Tree — illumining our darkness.

— this gathering itself

You see them — where are the signs of Joy for you here this season?

All about us are signs of Joy, that if we allow them, will lift us and lay us at the doorstep of what Jesus calls the Kingdom of God, that we might know as the household of love.

— the gateway is open and from wherever it is that we dwell, in sorrow, in pain, in happiness, we are invited into this household of love.

Today's reading from the Hebrew scriptures is about signs.

 

Threatened on every side, Ahaz, the king of Judah is considering a military alliance with the kingdom of Assyria, knowing that such an alliance would mean subservience to the Assyrian king. But, Ahaz lives in a household of fear. The Prophet Isaiah comes to Ahaz beckoning him to ask God for a sign — any sign at all that would make visible God's presence.

Ahaz fearing/trusting the military power of Assyria more than God, feigns piety, "I will not put God to the test." Frustrated Isaiah says, "First you mock me, then you mock God. Well, listen you will be given a sign. A young woman will give birth to a child — and this child shall be called Immanuel, which means God is with us.

Neither did Ahaz ask, nor did he want to be told. Afraid, Ahaz does not have the willingness nor the capacity to ask for or receive a sign. He suppresses the sublime in life, denying the divine activity present and available, choosing instead to focus only on the fear and its solution in what he might call the "real world." The movement of Spirit is lost to Ahaz — God's ways are lost to Ahaz. Here an invitation to Joy — God with us. And Ahaz cannot respond.

And Matthew writes 700 years later, picking up the phrase, God-with-us, to announce the incarnation — the presence of God in the world in Jesus Christ

And now 2700 plus years after Isaiah and Ahaz

we wonder at the miracle of birth, the hands and the feet, we marvel at the baby sounds.

 

Isaiah's question still rings, Matthew's question — Can we acknowledge God-with us, this ultimate sign of Joy — can we stand before the manger, affirming life — God is with us. Can we move from fear, into Joy?.

Joy moves through us. To dance and to sing, yes. To move beyond our inhibitions to love and to embrace life, yes. But I'd say there's one more step: Joy calls us, beckons us to service, to ministry.

Joy is the gospel singer who cannot forget the blues.

True Joy knows the price.

For not only is God to be with us — this is the gift. As Joy moves through us it becomes a call. We are lifted from self-concern to other concern joining God in God's love for the world. This is the price, the other side of Joy — we call it Compassion — to love as God loves.

I wonder if this is what the scripture means by second birth — being born into the household of love so that love might be born again through us into the world.

It depends on you

If in your heart you make

A manger for his birth

Then God will come once again

Become a child on earth

— Angelus Silesius

God with us calls us to be with God. Specifically, for us at First Congregational Church this Christmas this means support of a mission to Haiti, feeding children on Sunday afternoon. This means helping Habitat for Humanity build affordable housing in Oakland.

 

I received a Christmas card the other day, "Non nobis solum." Not for ourselves alone.

I take this to mean that as God is with us, God beckons us to ministry — for us to proclaim with our lives that we are with God.

 

 

Copyright © 2001, First Congregational Church of Berkeley

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