Sermon — December 13, 2020
The Rev. Greg Johnston
Rejoice always,
pray without ceasing,
give thanks in all circumstances;
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
(1 Thess. 5:16-18)
Have you ever heard of “Laughter Yoga”?
It’s no joke. It’s a serious, albeit playful, practice. Participants begin with clapping, stretching, and other exercises to loosen up, physically and socially. They do some breathing exercises to prepare themselves. And then they laugh at nothing at all, and for no reason at all. The leader just begins—hahahahahahahahaha!—and everyone joins in.
The theory is simple, although maybe counterintuitive. Our emotions, according to psychologists, aren’t thoughts we have in our minds, or things we feel in our hearts; they are embodied states. If we embody a different emotion, we actually begin to feel it. If we tense up our muscles and scrunch up our faces, we feel worse. If we loosen out our limbs and force ourselves to laugh, we feel better. Psychologists have done dozens of studies along these lines; even something as simple as holding a pencil in your mouth in a way that forces your mouth into the shape of a smile has been shown to improve your mood!
Laughter yoga may sound like nonsense to you. But don’t worry. Science is on the case. One 2019 literature review and meta-analysis surveyed the many studies that have been done of laughter, concluding not only that “laughter-inducing therapies may improve depression, anxiety, and perceived stress,” but that things like laughter yoga that used forced, simulated laughter were actually more effective than spontaneous, humorous laughter; an hour of “laughter yoga” was something like twice as effective as an hour of sketch comedy as a treatment for depression, anxiety, or stress.[1]
There are a lot of difficult commandments in the New Testament. “Give to everyone who asks from you.” (Luke 6:30) “Be patient with everyone.” (1 Thess. 5:14) “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Mark 12:31) But I think today’s epistle has one of the most difficult ones: “Rejoice always.” (1 Thess. 5:16)
It reminds me of a favorite saying of some of my family members, one which I’ve never liked: “Choose joy.” (Sorry, Mom, if you’re listening.) When I’ve been going through a rough time in life and heard the phrase “choose joy,” or seen it stamped across the cover of a book, I’ve always been tempted to reply like an elementary schooler: “I would if I could, but I can’t, so I won’t.” If I could just choose joy—if I could just choose to feel joyful—wouldn’t that be great?
It’s been a difficult year, and like many people, I’m more inclined to gripe than to rejoice. I’ve spent most of 2020 either sad or angry, either mourning all the big and small losses of this year, or raging against all the institutions and leaders who I think have let us down. It feels satisfying, at times, to dwell on this anger; it gives me a sense of satisfaction to mull on how right I am and how wrong the school system, or the library, or the government is.
“Rejoice always,” “give thanks in all circumstances,” is a high bar in any year. But this year? Impossible.
It’s worth recalling, for a moment, who Paul was writing to, and why, and when. The first letter to the Thessalonians is the earliest part of the New Testament. It’s written before the Gospels, before the Acts of the Apostles, before any of Paul’s other letters. Paul writes it to a church who are grieving, and anxious, and beginning to despair. It’s been three decades since Jesus died and rose again. These early Christians thought the world was going to change, and it has—kind of. But mostly, it’s just grinding on. Their friends and mentors in the church are aging and dying. They’re beginning to face persecution. But mostly they’re just enduring the tedium and disappointment of a life lived waiting for a future that never quite arrives.
And Paul writes to them, “Rejoice always… Give thanks in all circumstances.” And you can almost hear the rhyme in the back of their minds: “We would if we could, but we can’t—so we won’t.”
This Third Sunday of Advent is sometimes called “Gaudete Sunday.” “Gaudete” is Latin for “rejoice,” and it’s the first word of a traditional text used on this day in the Mass: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice.” We follow our two purple candles of repentance with a pink one of joy, and some churches even swap their purple out for pink vestments and altar hangings. It’s the Third Sunday of Advent, the Sunday of Joy; and three thousand Americans died each day this week. It’s hard to feel joyful on a Sunday like this.
But “rejoice always” doesn’t mean “always feel joyful.” Do you see what I mean? Paul never tells the Thessalonians to feel joy, to feel gratitude. He never says, “don’t worry, be happy.” He doesn’t command feel certain emotions. He commands them to do certain things. Give thanks in all circumstances. Pray without ceasing. Rejoice always.
We can’t force ourselves to feel things we don’t feel. We can’t simply will ourselves into feeling that this isolated Christmas season is a season as joyful as any other. But we can cultivate practices of rejoicing.
We can listen to as much Christmas music as we want, even though it’s only Advent. We can decorate our churches and our homes—and by the way, if you haven’t seen the beautiful greenery decorating our church, take a stroll by and look. We can call an old friend on the phone, we can write a thank-you note a week, we can take five minutes each day—just five minutes—and sit and pray to God and be quiet.
“The one who calls you,” Paul writes, “is faithful,” (1 Thess. 5:24) and faithfulness is all he asks in return. Goes doesn’t ask that we feel joyful every minute; but that we rejoice on every kind of day, good or bad. Not that we feel grateful every minute; but that we give thanks in every kind of circumstance. Not that we have perfect spiritual lives, but that we never forsake our practices of prayer. Because it’s this faithful practice of rejoicing—this “non-spontaneous” laughter into the void—that will help carry us through until we feel joy again. Because we will feel joy, again and again and again, as our Psalm this morning reminds us:
“Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying the seed, will come again with joy, shouldering their sheaves.”(Ps. 126:6-7)
So if you’re feeling joyful today—rejoice! It will be easy. If you’re feeling sad—rejoice! It might be hard. But it might help. Do one thing, just one thing, that you love to do to celebrate your life. Because we can’t control the circumstances of our lives. But we can choose joy; or, at least, “rejoice always.” Amen.
[1] C. Natalie van der Wal, Robin N. Kok, “Laughter-inducing therapies: Systematic review and meta-analysis,” Social Science & Medicine, Volume 232,2019,Pages 473-488,ISSN 0277-9536,https://doi.org/10.1016/j.socscimed.2019.02.018.(http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0277953619300851)