One
of the great themes of Advent is joy. (It is especially associated with the Third
Sunday of Advent, also known as Gaudete Sunday; and this year, JOY is the overall theme for Advent across
the Church of England nationally.)
The
author Brené Brown describes ‘joy’ as ‘sudden, unexpected, short-lasting, and
high intensity. It’s characterized by a connection with others, or with God,
nature, or the universe. Joy expands our thinking and attention, and it fills
us with a sense of freedom and abandon.’
(Atlas of the Heart, p. 204)
I
know too many people whose marriages have fallen into messy divorce. (That is
not to pass judgement: marriage is hard. I am aware that singleness is also
hard, but the point is not comparison; the point stands: marriage is hard.) I
know far too many people whose lives have been touched by the death, by
suicide, of someone close to them. I know people who are living, this
Christmas, with end-stage terminal illness. People who have lost a much-loved
family pet. (this is no small thing.) And this is not to look for the wider
catastrophes of climate collapse or war that uproot and remove families from
their lives and confront the watching – perhaps receiving – world with our own in/humanity.
It is common to the human condition that we dwell in darkness and in the shadow
of death.
Joy
does not deny or dismiss this reality. Rather, it is under these conditions
that joy is utterly essential, strengthening us to face our lives. For we do
not face life alone, beneath a dispassionate void, but with the God who chose
to become God-with-us in the birth of Jesus. He is the light that shines in the
darkness, the light that grows, incrementally, to noon-day sun. But the dawn,
the dawn sky, will take your breath away.
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