Gaudete Sunday

Rejoice!

Today, and this entire week, we light a pink candle on our advent wreaths. Two weeks of purple, turning inward and preparing, and now we are told to rejoice.

We aren't invited to rejoice. It isn't suggested that we rejoice. It's not optional. We are to rejoice. It is our obligation as Christians (and as Jews, since the exhortation comes from Zephaniah) to be glad and exult with all our hearts.

I think back on the year I've had, that my family and even many of my friends have had, and I think, "Rejoice? How to rejoice? Dare I be happy in the midst of this? I don't want to tempt fate any more than I already have!"

I think about my daughter Maeve's seizure in January and a springtime filled with trips to EEG and MRI labs. I don't feel like rejoicing. But I can REJOICE because she has never had another and it was probably febrile and therefore a benign seizure of childhood.

I look back at the funerals I've attended and the ones I couldn't make it to--Mike's uncle dying suddenly before his weekday mass; a friend's mother after a long battle with cancer; two suicides. Even our trusty loving rottweiler Dara. I cannot, on this side of death, find reason to rejoice here. I'm just not strong enough. But I can REJOICE because this year also saw Leo's birth and baptism and so many other moments of life. Mike's brother Steve married Mary. His other brother got engaged to Kaylen. Sophia celebrated her first communion. My grandmother was very sick but did not die this summer. My aunt Sarah, as she insists on the phone, isn't in any pain as her health rapidly declines. My brother graduates from college next weekend after a 13 year attempt.

I think about how tight money has been. We had to replace our HVAC system. We had many many car repairs and face replacing the van sooner than we might have planned. Tuition went up at Maeve's preschool. But I can REJOICE because Mike has a decent steady job as a consultant, which is one of those jobs that isn't always decent or steady. And I can REJOICE because money was always there when we needed it, sometimes from surprising sources.

I am reminded of the disappointment of my parish's school sale. It was supposed to sell to a charter school that backed out after many long delays. It is easy to despair on this one because it isn't in my house sitting across the table from me at dinner. It's easy to decide to just divorce myself from it because there is very little I can do about it in this economy, in this style of church leadership (I don't mean my pastor, but my hierarchical church structure), in this city of big empty buildings. Can I rejoice? Where can I find the source of praise? What purpose is there in my parish falling deep into debt, a building crumbling right next to our beautiful church? Sometimes I can find an easy reason to be thankful, to praise God, to be happy and joyful. And sometimes I can't. Yet. Perhaps in time it will be clear to me and then I can REJOICE because sticking around to see something through, especially something difficult and long, is a bittersweet but satisfying experience. So perhaps I can step out of time and REJOICE in advance knowing one day it will be clear.

It's been "one of those years" and I know there will be others like it in the future. But all will be well, as Julian of Norwich is famous for saying. All manner of things will be well. REJOICE and be glad.