How Does a Weary World Rejoice? We Root Ourselves in Ritual

“How Does a Weary World Rejoice? We Root Ourselves in Ritual” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on December 31, 2023. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 37:10.

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Scripture texts:
Luke 1:21-38

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Merry Christmas! And Happy New Year! It has been just 7 days from when we gathered by candlelight to celebrate the birth of Christ, God’s Son, our Savior. Throughout December, we’ve been making room to welcome Christ into our hearts but honoring all that are hearts are already carrying. Weariness or joy, amazement or hope – there is a space for all of it this Christmas. How does a weary world rejoice? We sing and we pray; we witness and watch in awe; we rejoice together, we cry together; we hope with intensity.  

But we don’t just do this only for Advent and Christmas, right? Or at least, we shouldn’t. 

Every Sunday we come to this place with our hearts full of joys and hurts to rejoice in a weary world. Every Sunday we come to make meaning of our lives and find strength for the journey. Every Sunday we come to worship with our siblings in Christ knowing we are not alone. Every Sunday we raise our voices in glory by singing familiar and beloved songs. Every Sunday we recite liturgy and prayers to give words to our hopes and fears. Every Sunday we come to hear God speak to us through Scripture and Word. Every Sunday we are making room for Christ to be known in our lives so that we can make Christ known in the lives of others. Every Sunday we are rooting ourselves in rituals because rituals can provide order and meaning in a weary world that often feels beyond our control. 

In our scripture reading today, we find a young family at the heart of a weary world narrative. Here, Mary and Joseph are new parents to the Christ child, journeying into the unknown of parenthood.

Eight days after the birth of Jesus, Mary and Joseph circumcise their child and give him the name Jesus, as was commanded to them. They return to the temple in Jerusalem to enact the sacred birth rituals of their culture and tradition. In the midst of their observance, the unexpected occurs. A man named Simeon, guided by the Spirit, enters the temple to proclaim Jesus as the “light of revelation.” Following him, a prophet named Anna approaches, praising God and speaking about Jesus to everyone longing for redemption.

In this story, we see the power of ritual in marking a sacred turning point. Even though Mary and Joseph might have been weary of what lay ahead, these sacred rituals and those who bore witness to them offered encouragement and strength for their journey.

But what do these ancient rituals mean for a 21st-century congregation? Well, rituals are not confined to the pages of scripture or the walls of ancient temples. They live with us in our daily routines, in our shared celebrations, and in the ways we grieve. Rituals provide structure to celebrations, losses, and transitions. Rituals bring meaning to our lives, especially when our futures seem deeply uncertain. They can help us make sense of confusing, ambiguous, daunting, or difficult chapters in our lives. While we might not always associate rituals with joy, perhaps we can find joy in the meaningful ways we choose to mark and celebrate our lives.

In 2014, The Reverend Cecelia D. Armstrong delivered the eulogy at her father’s funeral. She spoke of her father as a great giant. Rev. Armstrong described him as one of those guys who just helped wherever he was needed. However, he did not just come and do things for you. He would show you how to do it yourself because he did not want to return and do the same task again. He was the epitome of the saying, “Give a person a fish and they will eat for a day. Teach a person to fish and they will never go hungry.” Rev. Armstrong said her dad believed in planting seeds that would grow in the very people who would be here long after he passed away.

Rituals are one of the ways we plant seeds in our lives and in the lives of the generations to come. 

Think about it.  Even the experience of burying a seed in dirt, a seemingly weary task, can produce something beautiful in time. Even in the most challenging times, rituals can comfort us, guiding us through the dirt so to speak, and help us bloom. Our rituals have the power to bring joy even in times of great weariness. They provide comfort, solace, and a sense of belonging. 

Right before Christmas, I asked on my Facebook page for church goers, both FPCA members and beyond, to share stories of attending church (or rooting themselves in ritual) following a significant life event. Consider the rituals in these stories. 

A friend of mine from North Dakota shared a story about the strength and resilience of her congregation when we returned to their church after a devastating fire. The ‘new’ building stood as a powerful testament to their faith and their resolve, a symbol of their commitment to their rituals, and a beacon of hope in a weary time.

A member of this church shared a story of worshipping on All Saints Day after his father’s death. While remember ‘I Sing a Song of the Saints of God’ with tears streaming down his face he was given powerful reminder of father’s place in the great cloud of witnesses who have gone before us.” Despite his grief, he found solace in the rituals of our faith, in the hymns that reminded him of his father's place among the saints.

Or consider the experience of a woman who returned to church after her father's death. Growing up, she always sat between her parents at the church… and on that day following her father’s death, she said she could feel my dad sitting to her left, teasingly nudging me, which was our special way to say ’I’m glad you’re here with me’ To this day, she shared she still feels his presence to her left, and her Mom to her right. She felt the presence of her parents beside her, their rituals of sitting together in church bringing a sense of comfort and closeness. The rituals she shared with her parents continued to provide solace, even in their absence.

A couple from my previous congregation shared a story of returning to church after finding out they were expecting a child after years of battling infertility. The rituals of their faith gave them hope and patience during their struggles, and their return to church after receiving the good news was a joyful celebration of God's faithfulness.

Friends of mine who I used to serve with in a church in New Jersey shared a story that following their wedding, they returned to their church. Despite the challenges they faced as a LGBTQ+ couple in other churches, they found acceptance and love in a worshipping community. The rituals of their church not only recognized their union but celebrated it with joy and love.

Another member shared, on 9/11 all she wanted was to be with her girls and be at church. The service brought hope and comfort as we all grieved together knowing that God grieved with us. She also shared another story about the joy of bringing each of her girls to church for the first time after they arrived. The wait for each was long and filled with pain and disappointment which made the joy of their arrival that much stronger. It was a holy experience to share her joy with the people and the God who had seen me through it all. Here, the ritual of community, brought comfort in following 9/11 and joy following the arrival of her daughters. 

Finally, another member and friend shared her first time back in after her first child, a son, was born still. She remembers it coincided with Lent, and it felt comforting to find herself in a pew. She described that she never experienced a greater understanding or connection to the experience of sacrifice and loss together with the hope resurrection. She identified with Mary, Jesus’ mother, knowing she too lost her Son. It made it okay for her to just show up and weep.

These stories remind us of the power of rituals. Whether we are celebrating a new union, grieving a loss, or sharing the joy of a long-awaited blessing, our rituals ground us in our faith, connect us with our community, and give us a reason to rejoice.

The rituals we partake in, whether they are joyous or challenging, allow us to rejoice in the knowledge that we are a part of something greater, and that there is always hope for a weary world. In every seed we plant, in every ritual we partake in, there is an opportunity for the weary world to rejoice. 

Tonight, we will bid farewell to this year and step into the unknown of a new year. As we reflect on the power of rooting ourselves in ritual, we must consider the significance of this moment. It is not a mere coincidence that we gather here on the first Sunday after Christmas, on the eve of a new year.

The rituals we embrace in our faith, the songs we sing, the prayers we offer, the community we find solace in, all serve as anchors in our lives. They ground us, providing stability and meaning amidst the uncertainties of the world. And as we stand on the threshold of a new year, these rituals become even more vital.

In this weary world, where chaos and change often reign, our rituals offer us a sense of continuity and purpose. They remind us of the values we hold dear, the love we have for one another, and the faith that sustains us. They guide us in setting our priorities for the year ahead.

As we embark on this new year, we must prioritize the rituals that ground us in our faith. Let us commit to regular participation in worship, to engaging in prayer and meditation, to nurturing the connections we have with our church community. These rituals will be the foundation upon which we build our lives in the coming year.

In the weariness of the world, we can rejoice by rooting ourselves in the rituals that unite us, that connect us to God and to one another. We embrace this truth as we step into the new year, knowing that with each ritual, we bring light into the darkness and hope into the weariness. 

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen."

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How Does a Weary World Rejoice? We Find Joy in Connection

“How Does a Weary World Rejoice? We Find Joy in Connection” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on December 10, 2023. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 39:30.

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Scripture texts:
Isaiah 40:1-11
Luke 1:24-45

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Today, we gather in the spirit of the Advent season, on this the second Sunday. Our overarching theme this Advent is a question that resonates deeply within all of us: “How does a weary world rejoice?” It is our hope to answer that question as a community this Advent and Christmas and to provide encouragement and even instructions on how we, as part of this weary world, can rejoice.

So how do we answer that question today? How does a weary world rejoice? 

We find joy in connection.

There is immense power found in connection with others and the joy it can bring, particularly in times when the world around us feels heavy with weariness.

Luke 1:24-45 introduces us to Elizabeth and Mary, two women marked by divine intervention and interconnected by familial ties. Both are faced with pregnancies that defy human understanding: Elizabeth conceives in her old age, and Mary, a virgin, is chosen to bear the Christ child. Despite the societal and generational differences that exist between them, a shared experience unites them. This shared experience becomes a source of connectional joy and comfort, a beacon of light in their remarkable circumstances.

In this passage, we find Elizabeth secluded, pregnant in her old age after years of barrenness. We don’t know why she chose to hide herself away, but we can imagine the questions swirling in her mind. ‘Does the Lord know how old I am?’ ‘Why now, after all these years, am I blessed with a child?’ ‘Has all the years of being childless filled me with shame and weariness?’

On the other side, we have Mary, a young woman newly pregnant and not yet married. She, too, might have been asking herself, ‘Does the Lord know how young I am?’ ‘How can I rejoice in this unexpected pregnancy when I’m not married?’ ‘What am I to do?!’

While we don’t know how Elizabeth found out she was pregnant (after all, scripture tells us the angel visited Zechariah with the news and then made him mute), we do hear about the angel sharing the good news with Mary.

But Mary's initial reaction to the unexpected visit of the angel Gabriel was one of fear and confusion. She was troubled by the sudden announcement that she was highly favored and that the Lord was with her. In fact, Luke tells us that Mary's state of mind was even more troubled than Zechariah's. Luke employs the Greek verb e-ta-rax-they to describe Zechariah’s troubled state of mind. But Luke uses die-ta-rax-they, a stronger form of ta-rax-they, to describe Mary’s state of mind when she heard Gabriel’s initial announcement. E-ta-rax-they simply means “troubled,” but die-ta-rax-they means “greatly troubled.”

This was a significant moment for Mary, and she had every reason to be greatly troubled by this unexpected visitor and the grand but vague announcement. She was in a vulnerable position, being young, female, and poor in a society that valued age and power. The stakes were high for Mary, as one wrong move could have severe consequences for her personal and family reputation.

However, Mary's story stands out for the transformation she undergoes from her initial fear and trouble to a place of acceptance and affirmation of the angel's announcement. The angel, Gabriel, sought to reassure Mary and convince her to embrace her role in the mission. He made grand pronouncements about her favored status, the greatness of her son, and his eternal kingdom. These pronouncements should have brought great joy to Mary. But interestingly, they did not fully reassure her or alleviate her anxiety.

Mary still had questions and asked, "How will this be?" The angel's response, assuring her of the power of the Most High and the divine nature of her offspring, was strong. However, it still did not completely ease her doubts.

It is in the same announcement that Mary’s child will be the Son of God, the angel tells her that Elizabeth is also pregnant. It was the news of Elizabeth's miraculous conception that finally convinced Mary to accept the angel's announcement. The fact that her relative, someone she knew well, was also experiencing a similar situation gave her the reassurance and support she needed. Mary understood the importance of someone who would walk with her, share in her experience, and stand by her side during this uncertain journey.

And even more so, when Mary arrives at Elizabeth’s door, something miraculous happens. When Mary encounters Elizabeth, her relative and companion in unexpected motherhood, Elizabeth’s child leaps in her womb, and she is filled with the Holy Spirit. Then, Mary’s fear gives way to joy.

Mary and Elizabeth experience joy together. Their joy is shared! It is mutual! It is contagious! In that moment, joy bursts forth, not in isolation, but through connection.

The two share a joy that only grows and expands from their connection.

This shared joy between Mary and Elizabeth echoes the words of Brené Brown, who defines joy as “an intense feeling of deep spiritual connection, pleasure, and appreciation.” She tells us that joy is “characterized by a connection with others, or with God, nature, or the universe.”

Similarly, in the Greek language of the New Testament, the word for “happy” or “blessed” is ma-ka-rios, which suggests a state of good fortune or carefree living. Yet, this is not the joy we speak of today. The joy we seek is not dependent on wealth or ease, but rather, it is a joy born of connection. It is the Greek word for joy, chairó, that we hold in our hearts as we journey through Advent. This is a joy that can be found in hardship, in uncertainty, in weariness, because it is a joy that grows in relationship.

This is the joy we are invited to seek in this Advent season: joy rooted in connection; joy that grows in relationship; joy that can flourish even in a weary world.

The prophecy of Isaiah 40 echoes the sentiments from Luke as we encounter another expression of connectional joy. The prophet Isaiah speaks words of comfort to a weary people in exile, promising them that their suffering will end, that they will return home. These words are a balm, a soothing salve for a people wearied by oppression and loss. They offer comfort, yes, but more than that, they offer hope. And hope is a potent catalyst for joy.

Just as Isaiah’s words comforted the exiles, so too do we find comfort in our connections with one another. We find joy in the shared experiences, in the mutual support, in the simple and profound act of being there for each other. This is how a weary world rejoices.

We witness weariness every day, both in our present lives and in the lives of people across the world. We think of those who are lonely or isolated, those who grieve, those who are burdened by fear and uncertainty. We recognize that joy may feel elusive for many of us.

Yet, the stories of Elizabeth and Mary, of the comforted exiles in Isaiah, remind us that joy is not a solitary endeavor. It is not something we must muster on our own. Joy is not an isolated experience. Instead, joy is something we share, something we create together, something we find in connection. When we cannot find joy within ourselves, we can draw from the joy of others. In the sharing of our joy, we multiply it. Joy expands in a community.

For any of us, whenever facing difficult or unforeseen circumstances; when facing weariness - what matters most is having someone who will share in our experience, stand with us, and walk alongside us.

This is the essence of the incarnation, that God not only assures us of God’s care but also shares in our human experience and journeys with us in our everyday lives. Jesus Christ, the incarnate God, the Word made flesh, Emmanuel – “God with us” – promises to always share in our experience, to stand with us, and walk alongside us.

This Advent season: embrace and embody the incarnation. Embrace the incarnation, that God is with us, walking with us in our joys and struggles. And because of our faith in a God who does that for us; we must do the same for others. Embody the incarnation and promise to walk with others in shared joys and struggles, both yours and theirs. As followers of the incarnate Christ, lift up the relationships you create and foster as holy endeavors with the most beloved of people— every relationship; every person.

We are never alone in our struggles. We are part of a divine design, intricately connected with each other, with God, with the universe. Even in our weariness, we can find joy in these connections because the joy is always there. Yes, it is true. Joy is always there, waiting to be discovered in the connections we share with one another, with God, and with the world around us.

As we journey through this Advent season, may we be open to the joy that comes from connection. May we find comfort in the shared experiences of our community. May we hold joy for each other, just as Mary and Elizabeth did. And may this shared, connectional joy light our path, guiding us through the weariness of our world and into the hope and peace of the coming Christ.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

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