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Today I want to talk about joy, and where we truly find it; because there are a lot of tough, troubling things going on in the world and joy is the power that provides the equanimity and endurance to face the stress and suffering and, indeed, prevail over evil.
Joy is not a fleeting emotion. It is not a fun feeling. Joy is the inoculation that gives us the power to thrive as conquering agents of the living God. It is an outward and visible sign of the hold God has on each and every human soul.
I am preaching about the power of joy today in anticipation of a sermon I’m going to preach next Sunday about the tragedy imposed on Gaza by the Israeli Government. The question I’ve been confronted with is this: “How do we find joy in a world where evil is allowed to run rampant as it is in Gaza?”
This question reflects the words we just heard from the Teacher in Ecclesiastes: “Vanity of vanities,” says the Teacher… “All is vanity; chasing after the wind.”
The Teacher laments the endless toil as fate leaves our possessions for someone else who may squander them, misunderstand them, or never appreciate their cost or value; life as nothing more than chasing the wind. Vanity of vanities.
I start here because this wisdom literature holds a mirror to the parable Jesus tells in Luke. Both Ecclesiastes and Jesus are asking the same question: What is the relationship between our souls and the things of this world; that is the possessions that are a measure of one’s power in the minds of men.
The soul. Possessions. Power… the key to untangling this knot is joy.
Let’s look at the Gospel of Luke. There are two stories happening in today’s passage. The first is about inheritance. A young man asks Jesus to arbitrate a family dispute over property. This would have been a normal role for a Rabbi.
But Jesus refuses, saying, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” Jesus makes it clear, he didn’t come to divide up possessions; he came to point to the Kingdom of God. He is not a judge of property, but a revealer of the power of the soul.
The second story, the parable of the rich fool, goes deeper. Here’s a man who convinces himself that his soul will be satisfied if he just builds bigger barns to hold all his possessions. “Soul,” he says, “you have ample goods laid up for many years; eat, drink, and be merry.” But God calls him a fool because that very night his life will be demanded of him.
Do you see the parallel to Ecclesiastes? The “vanity” the Teacher speaks of is not simply having wealth, but believing that wealth can feed the soul. Passing on material goods as if they will give future generations joy, Ecclesiastes says, “is a great evil,” and has spiritually wounded many unknowingly.
Here’s the heart of the matter: our souls are not measured or fueled by things of this material world. The soul is that part of us that comes from God, is with God now, and will return to God.
The soul is the one part of us that no one else can access, no one else can touch… it belongs to God, and, I might add, is the biggest part of us because it is that which mainlines the power of God, and that power is most notably measured through the pulse of joy that sounds as background music in a person’s life.
Which is why what we own, what we achieve, even what we pass on, none of it bears upon the magnificence of our soul. Which is why Jesus will not be drawn into judging inheritance disputes. His mission is to draw our attention back to the only thing that matters, the only thing that reflects the true power of a person—the presence of their soul. When we follow Jesus, orienting our lives toward his ways, we open ourselves to the possibility of being present to the steady state power of joy. That’s exactly what Jesus wants for us.
So how do we reveal this joy beyond the vanities?
I want to suggest three orientations: being, giving, and preparing.
Joy begins by being where we are, fully present in our bodies, in the life God has given us. Being, it turns out, can run against the currents of our culture.
I was talking recently with some young people at one of our Wednesday evening theological gatherings in my office. “Doom scrolling” came up. That’s the habit of flipping mindlessly through Instagram, YouTube, or TikTok to be surprised to find an hour has passed, stolen, leaving only a void. Empty.
In the midst of the conversation the idea of declaring this sanctuary a “cyborg-free zone” came up. The idea would be to leave our phones in the narthex when we arrive, so that when we walk into this holy space, we arrive as humans, fully, simply, singularly. Homo-anima: that is possessors of a soul. Homo-anima means soul-bearers.
The imperative here is not to avoid tipping into the void during church, because no one ever sneaks a peek at their phone in church. To create this sanctuary as a “cyber-free zone” isn’t about phones, it’s about liberation, it’s about being, it’s about joy—fully recognizing liturgy as the practice of being present to our souls, a practice we can then spread out into the rest of our life: at work, on a walk, with a friend, with our dog, or even washing dishes. Joy is revealed when we are being present to our souls.
Joy also appears when we give ourselves to something bigger than ourselves. Giving is the second orientation toward joy, showing up to become involved in efforts beyond ourselves. This can happen in small ways, like cooking dinner for the family. This also shows up when we work for the greater good of our community. Or even through the jobs we have. Being Rector of Epiphany brings me great joy.
When together we give to build up the community, to make it better, joy bubbles up. It can happen at marches, or clean up days at the church (Sat. Sept. 6, 9:00 am), or even giving away money which proves more fulfilling than hoarding it in barns.
Giving provokes joy because we are made for communion, not self-preservation. We are created for eternity, not for the tomb. Jesus says, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will also be.” (Mt 6:21) When we give, our hearts expand into the joy of our souls which are connected to God.
Which finally brings us to the joy of preparing.
I heard about a study recently, can’t remember where, that looked at people’s experiences of vacation. And what it found was this: people who prepare for their vacation, who plan it, anticipate it, who imagine it before they even arrive, report far more joy from the experience than those who just show up.
There’s something about preparation that unlocks joy. I think about this every year around Christmas. It’s not Christmas Day itself that carries the deepest joy of the season… it is Advent! That’s where the joy is revealed. The decorating. The anticipation. The sense of community around the church, the Messiah concerts, Christmas caroling, candlelit Evensongs, cookies at Coffee Hour.
It’s in the getting ready that joy is revealed. Preparation brings joy, as it opens us to our soul because preparation is really the point of life. To be present and to give to this world is all preparation for our transition from mortality to eternity, from joy revealed to joy fully immersed in the love and the power of God. And it is that joy that empowers us each in our own way, to repel evil.
I’ll be preaching more about that next Sunday.
But today, today I want to remind us of joy. Not as an escape. Not as a distraction. But as a calling. We have a duty toward joy. Joy is not weakness. Joy is not noise. Joy is not naiveté. Joy is power.
Which is critically important, central, in fact, to being people of hope. We are strong, not because we are angry, not because we are well-armed, but because we are people of joy.
Don’t discount the necessity of joy, especially in the face of horror and ugliness.
I think of one of the great saints of our time: Desmond Tutu. He was a man of relentless joy. A man who laughed easily, even as he stood against the human evil of apartheid South Africa. His joy was not denial. His joy was defiance. His joy was faith.
Meditate on the power of your joy. Seek it, in your being, in your giving, in your preparing. Let it blow away vanity. Let it still the wind. Don’t worry so much about what goes into the barn. Worry instead about the joy that connects your soul to the power of the living God.