PEOPLE'S CHURCH OF DOVER

Isaiah 12:2-6; Luke 1:46-55                                                            With Joy Draw Water
Sermon December 13, 2009:  People’s United Church of Christ, Dover, DE:  The Rev. Dan Griggs

            Do you have all your Christmas shopping finished?  How about your baking?  Have you dipped into your credit cards yet?  Is family coming in for the holidays?  Are you the one who’s supposed to find beds for everybody?  Wouldn’t a cruise in the Caribbean be a good thing just about now?  Hey!  It’s the season of joy, and with two weeks to go, the stresses are mounting.  And now on this Third Sunday of Advent we highlight the word “joy.” 

            I have some good news to talk about this morning.  You have a deep well of fresh, clean water of the soul from which you may draw whenever you really want it.  And so as our closing hymn this morning we’re going to sing a carol titled “With Joy Draw Water.”  This would be good news wouldn’t it! 

            The prophet Isaiah lived about seven hundred years before the birth of Jesus.  He was a minor prince, descended from King David; so he lived comfortably, although he had no political power.  He lived in Jerusalem at a time when Israel was divided into two kingdoms—the southern kingdom around Jerusalem, called “Judah,” and the richer northern kingdom around Samaria, called “Ephraim.”  It was a period in world history when the Middle East was rocked with war among growing empires.  The Assyrians had invaded Ephraim, destroyed it, and banished all its people never to be heard from again:  the Assyrian Empire had been a disaster.  The kings of Judah had bought them off, so they left Isaiah’s people to their own devices; but it was a nervous time, a dangerous time.  One day when Isaiah was in the temple at the time of the sacrifice of incense, he had a vision:  God called him to become a prophet, to condemn Judah’s preference for political savvy over trust in God.  Over the years his message was rejected by his own cousins in power, but for the people of Judah whose hearts were inclined toward God, Isaiah was a great leader.  His prophetic sermons were written down and saved for generations, finally becoming the first half of the book in the Old Testament that’s named after him.  Our First Lesson is Isaiah’s song of joy.  The Assyrian Empire is crumbling.  God’s purposes in history are almost visible.  Judah is feeling relief; and he calls the people together and says,

In a terrible time in their lives, they are invited to sing of joy.  So you also have a deep well of fresh, clean water of the soul from which you may draw whenever you really want it. 

            The Gospel Lesson has the same feel as the Isaiah song.  This is, of course, Mary’s song, “The Magnificat.”  Our middle class American culture has put a sweet face on this moment—Mary’s clothes are pretty, she has her own bedroom, she has centuries of respect ahead of her; but in fact Mary was in a very difficult situation—almost as bad as the girl Precious in this recent movie.  Mary is a teenager, her family is poor, she has no education, her only opportunity in life is that maybe she’ll find a good, hard-working husband; she’s unmarried, and she’s pregnant.  According to the Law of Moses, she could be condemned to death.  So her parents do what a lot of parents have done—they send her to stay with a cousin far from home.  And it’s in her cousin Elizabeth’s house that she begins to realize the full impact of God’s presence in her life; and so she breaks out in song—a song like the rejoicing of another mother long before:  Hannah, mother of Samuel.  Mary sings her heart out with joy; but her song isn’t just about herself, it’s about God’s working in history to bless the people God has called.

            Do you see the irony in both Mary’s song and Isaiah’s song?  “In the darkest hour, rejoice” (they say) “for the blessings of God are about to rain down on you.”  You have a deep well of fresh, clean water of the soul from which you may draw whenever you really want it.  This is the Advent theme of joy.  And it is yours. 

            As we prepare to celebrate the birth of the Son of God anew in us this Christmas, we are invited to joy.  Maybe we should think about what joy really is.  What does the word “joy” mean? 

            Years ago I read a little book by C. S. Lewis about his early life, titled Surprised by Joy.  In this book Lewis wants his readers to understand that his discovery of joy was not about being “happy.”  He said that “happy” comes from the word “happen”—something you’re not seeking, something you’re not attending to   comes to you in the moment, it “happens” to you, and for that brief moment you’re happy.  But this happiness is not what Lewis calls “joy.”  Joy is, as Bruce Edwards summarizes it:[1]

Joy connects you with “the ultimate questions.”  Maybe you use the words “happy” and “joy” backwards from the way I’ve described Lewis’ use of them.  But I think Lewis was going with the poet Friedrich Schiller’s idea of joy as a divine principle that drives all of life.  The psychologist Erich Fromm said that joy is “the feeling that you feel on the path towards human self-realization,” as contrasted with “pleasure” which is momentary elation.[2]
            In Christianity “joy” means a certain strength of integrity, maturity, the sense of energy you have in living a genuine life as a self-possessed individual,[3] in communion with the Mystery of God.  And that’s exactly how joy came to Mary—as she embraced her new life as a self-possessed individual in communion with the Mystery.  I think Isaiah touches this meaning as well:  in spite of the darkness of his age, he called his people to dwell in the strength of God. 

            So this isn’t the upbeat attitude of our smiley-face culture, always urging us to “look on the bright side.”  For Isaiah, for Mary, and also for us during this era of terrorism, climate change, recession and war,[4] “joy” just is not being pleasant and making the best of it.  Christian joy has some teeth in it.  Karl Barth said that joy is a defiant “nevertheless” that is rooted in the gospel of grace and love:[5]  the world is the way it is, “nevertheless” our deepest life is grounded in the Mystery of God. 

            And, yes, you too have experienced this kind of “joy,” haven’t you.  You have a deep well of fresh, clean water of the soul from which you may draw whenever you really want it. 

            What is it that enabled those ancient Christian missionaries to venture almost totally alone into the forests of Northern Europe, the mountains of central Asia, the deserts of Arabia, carrying the message about Jesus Christ to people who had never heard it?  They faced hostile tribes with their own religions that supported the authority of their political rulers.  They faced a lifetime working with people who never seemed to leave their pagan superstitions completely behind them.  They sacrificed home, hearth and family to embrace slavery, ridicule, physical beatings and even death at the hands of the very people to whom they had come to announce the message of joy.  What made those sacrifices possible?  Not the momentary feelings of “happiness”:  their joy had to be much deeper, much more solid and substantial. 

            In the history of People’s Church of Dover, back at the beginning, when the Methodist Conference withdrew Rev. Lightbourne’s standing, he moved his family from Dover to Wilmington—he got completely out of the way of anything that would be going on among the members of the church.  What was it that gave him the heart and the spunk to come back to Dover two months later and hold a worship service in the Dover Opera House for the friends who had withdrawn from Wesley Church?  It certainly wasn’t optimism.  His friends invited him to speak in their new church, and there had to be something deep and substantial in the man to let him come back here, the scene of such recent sorrow, and lead worship.  That something deep was his Christian joy, rooted in his communion with the Mystery of God.  And when they asked him to become their pastor, they all began to build on that deep connectedness; and it resulted in this church and its great heritage of mission and ministry.  The joy that God imparts has teeth in it. 

Even children know when they’re in the presence of this joy.  They might not be able to name it, or understand what’s going on; but they sense it and revel in it.  Timmy was a little boy who was invited to go to a Christmas Eve service.  He had never been to church before.  When it was over, the minister asked him, “Well, Timmy what did you think of it?”  Timmy said, “Well, I want some of that UMFANT.”  The minister leaned a little closer and asked, “Some of that what?”  Timmy repeated, “I want some UMFANT.”  The minister said, “I don’t know what you mean.”  Timmy said, “You know—like in the song:           O come all ye faithful, joyful   …    And TRY  UMFANT

I want to try some umfant.”[6]

            Well, we’ve got access to the UMFANT around here!  You have a deep well of fresh, clean water of the soul from which you may draw whenever you really want it. 

            Isaiah sang it out:  “With joy draw water.”  This is how the Book of Revelation closes. 

“It is I, Jesus, who sent my angel to you with this testimony for the churches. 
I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star.”
                        The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.”
                        And let everyone who hears say, “Come.”
                        And let everyone who is thirsty come.
                        Let anyone who wishes take the water of life freely.

This   is joy.              

AMEN