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These are the gloomy days in Seattle. The sun, if it appears at all, doesn’t show up until around 8:00 in the morning and then begins to disappear around 4:00 in the afternoon. There’s a persistent mist in the air, and if it’s not misting that generally means it’s raining. For lots of folks, seasonal affective disorder begins to kick in right about now. And there’s an existential malaise in the air too, a feeling of division and disconnection and distance between and among us that is to my mind a cause for great lamentation. Where is the hope of spring, we may find ourselves asking? Will it actually come again, breaking through the mist and the malaise? Hard to say. Spring seems at best elusive.
So what are we to make of the appearance of this piece from the Apostle Paul’s letter to his people in Philippi that appears on this gloomy day? In fact, what are we to make of all these snippets about “joy” and “peace” from his letter that shows up during Advent? A bit of background to know is that as Paul writes this he is in prison, judged to be a danger to the good order of the Empire. His very life is hanging in the balance. So what’s up with all the “joy “and “rejoicing” and “thanksgiving” and “peace?” And how can he say, “Don’t worry about anything” when he knows that at any moment the executioner might come calling? And what does he even mean when he talks about “joy” and “peace?” Is “joy” some kind of emotional high? Is “peace” a state of perpetual happiness or is it simply the absence of conflict? Or are joy and peace something more durable, something more sustainable?
To answer these questions, let’s take a look at the community that Paul and his friends in Philippi were building. And as we’re doing that, let’s also consider what that says to us about the kind of durable and sustainable community that’s being built right here at Epiphany. The foundation of the Philippian community is built on its relationship to Jesus. “Rejoice in the Lord always”, says Paul. When our rejoicing is “in the Lord” it suggests that the community’s core relationship is its relationship with Jesus, a relationship, that is to say, that is built on the durable, the eternal, the everlasting. And “always” suggests that the rejoicing is to be done in every circumstance and in every season, in good times and in bad. “Always” points to a “joy” that endures even in the midst of the mists and the malaise of daily living. “Joy” is grounded in a relationship that’s built on trust and hope that can transcend the moments of hopelessness. In his letter to the Christians in Rome, a little group that was under the most intense persecution from the Emperor Nero, Paul puts it like this:
Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:35-39
So, you see, it’s relationships that are at the heart of things. First, relationships grounded in Christ. Second, and just as important, relationships grounded with one another in a Christ-centered community. This doesn’t mean that everyone agrees all the time or gets along with each other all the time. “Kumbaya” isn’t the theme song of a rich and lasting community. What it does mean is that everyone in the community has a role to play in creating the kind of mutually encouraging and supportive relationships that are the foundation of “joy” and the cause for “rejoicing.” In other words, it’s about attitude and behaviors. Our attitudes and our behaviors, yours and mine.
These attitudes and behaviors are captured in Paul’s admonition to “let your gentleness be known to everyone.” Now, “gentleness” doesn’t mean being meek and mild. No, it’s an admonition to humility and vulnerability. Here’s a newsflash. You don’t know everything because you can’t know everything! It’s a reminder that we have choices about how we see ourselves and how we treat other human beings. One of the great parish beloveds when I was rector of St Thomas was Granny Mary. She said that in every circumstance it’s always better to love than it is to be “right.” It is always better to love than it is to be right. So get over yourself, she would say! And that’s how she lived her life. That doesn’t mean being a doormat and letting people walk all over you. It does mean listening and learning from perspectives different from your own. It also means “speaking the truth in love”, as Paul says elsewhere, when confronting attitudes and behaviors and ideas that are destructive of the health of the community. It’s all part of maintaining your personal integrity.
Of course, human nature being what it is, we are often tempted to assert that it is our right to be “right”, if you see what I mean, rather than to love. We have this need to be “right” out of fear and anxiety in situations where we feel out of control. Paul understands this deeply human need and in response says, “Do not worry about anything.” Now, that’s not the same thing as the old pop song, “Don’t worry, be happy.” Paul would never be so trivial. Instead it’s an invitation to a practice. Paul says, “(B)ut in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” Giving thanks to God in every circumstance, even the most challenging, even the most anxiety-provoking, places your fears and anxieties in the context of your relationship to God. By telling your deepest fears to God you’re also saying them out loud to yourself, you’re getting your fear out of the darkness of your head and into the light where you can see them more clearly. And sometimes, maybe many times, when you can see your fears more clearly, they lose some of their power over you. You become less defended and more vulnerable. And doing all of this with an attitude of thanksgiving means you are open to the process of God’s healing grace. You’re showing your confidence that you’ll be supported and sustained by the God who is faithful and just. What a concept, right?
All this leads Paul to conclude with the promise of “peace,” and remarkably, a peace that passes all understanding. Clearly, he’s not talking about peace in the sense of simply the absence of conflict, and he’s not talking about peace in some kind of magical thinking way. No, it’s peace that pushes beyond our imaginations, challenging us to constantly figure out what it is that makes for real, lasting, enduring peace. My friend, Susan Pitchford calls it “the peace that makes no sense.” That sounds about right. It’s the kind of peace that’s beautifully captured in one of my favorite hymns “They Cast Their Nets in Galilee.” It’s no. 661 in our Hymnal and it’s based on a poem by the great Southern writer, William Alexander Percy, about the calling of Peter and James and Andrew and John, simple fishermen who had their lives turned inside out, and who all but one gave their lives for that call. Yet, they knew the most profound peace, the peace that passes all understanding.
They cast their nets in Galilee
Just off the hills of brown
Such happy simple fisherfolk
Before the Lord came down
Contented peaceful fishermen
Before they ever knew
The peace of God That fill’d their hearts
Brimful and broke them too.
Young John who trimmed the flapping sail,
Homeless, in Patmos died.
Peter, who hauled the teeming net,
Head-down was crucified.
The peace of God, it is no peace,
But strife closed in the sod,
Yet, brothers, pray for but one thing–
The marvelous peace of God.
Fishermen know that this is a hard way to make a living. These first followers of Jesus, these simple fisherfolk, were regular people, making a regular living, praying for the peace of God. That peace was often strife, but that strife was more than worth the cost.
So what does all this mean for us, simple fisherfolk ourselves, in this place and in this moment in time? For one thing, let’s all give thanks that we gather day by day, week by week, month by month, in a Christ-centered community, a community that focuses on the things that are eternal rather than things that are passing away. This community of Epiphany Parish. And let’s give thanks for one another, each one of us in our diversity of experiences and backgrounds and opinions and dreams for the future. We’ve all gathered under this big tent, a tent where there is a place for everyone. And you know what? We are all alike in at least one important way. We all hope for peace, for a peace that passes all understanding, a peace that makes no sense. And as we stay grounded in Christ Jesus we can be pretty darn sure that peace will come. In fact, my dear friends, peace is already here. We just need to open our eyes and our hearts to grasp it.
Now, I know it gets dark early and it’s gloomy and misty and too often raining these days. I get it. But right now, bear with me for a moment. Lift up your head and look around. Look at your neighbor. Look at your neighbor and smile. Nice to work those face muscles like that, isn’t it? And how nice is it to see that smile on your neighbor’s face? Now look the other way. Same thing. Look and smile. Feel the connection? Feel the joy? Feel the peace? You can carry that home with you. You can carry that joy and that peace around with you this week, and you can remember it when things begin to feel a little dark and a little gloomy. And you know what, if you squint just long enough, you might even be able to see the beginning of Spring.