James 5:7-10

“Joy When You Can’t Sing”

December 15, 2019

On Black Friday I was in my kitchen doing dishes when my next door neighbor started one of his projects in the garage.  He’s very quiet most of the time, but I can usually catch the sound of his bandsaw or belt sander.  This time, though, he was playing music and if it had gone on too long I would have gone over to see if he was okay, because I was hearing “Same Old Lang Syne”.  Even if you think you don’t know the song, you’d probably recognize it.  It’s Dan Fogelberg’s classic holiday ode to regret and loss.  He runs into a long-ago love in the grocery store on Christmas Eve, they talk, they talk some more, and then the conversation stalls.  She drives away, and as Fogelberg watches her pull out of the parking lot, he says,

“Just for a moment I was

Back at school

And felt that old, familiar pain

And as I tuned to make

My way back home

The snow turned into rain –”

Cue the saxophone.  If someone plays that song more than once, twice at the outside, you know something is seriously going on.

           

            It isn’t that people don’t feel loneliness or regret or loss at other times of the year.  They do.  But there’s an expectation of forced hilarity that I blame on Charles Dickens.  If you don’t feel all ho-ho-ho you must be a Charlie Brown.  We’ve all heard him say,

“I think there must be something wrong with me, Linus.  Christmas is coming but I’m not happy.  I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to feel.”

Of course, Linus will let him in on the not-so-secret secret of the season at the end of the half hour, but Charlie Brown has to dig down further.  He has to reject the false promises of Snoopy’s decorated doghouse and Sally’s self-serving letter to Santa, and Lucy’s opportunity to take control of the pageant before he can hear the tidings of great joy.

            Henri Nouwen wrote about what turns ritual into celebration, and what he said is that truly to celebrate life means recognizing the alternative.  The fullness of joy comes to those who are up against the deepest sadness.  Let me read his words, not summarize them:

“When we speak about celebration we tend rather easily to bring to mind happy, pleasant, gay festivities in which we can forget for a while the hardships of life and immerse ourselves in an atmosphere of music, dance, drinks, laughter, and a lot of cozy small-talk.  But celebration in the Christian sense has very little to do with this.  Celebration is only possible through the deep realization that life and death are never found completely separate.  Celebration can only really come about where fear and love, joy and sorrow, tears and smiles can exist together.  Celebration is the acceptance of life in a constantly increasing awareness of its preciousness.”[1]

            The text for this sermon is from James, who wrote to encourage faithfulness in the face of difficulty, and said,

“As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.” [James 5:10]

So let’s do that.  Let’s see what we see in, for instance, the passage from Isaiah that we heard at the start of the service.

            First off, he was sent to speak to people who were in trouble.  Geographically, they were in exile.  Emotionally, they were scared.  Spiritually, they were a wreck.  They had lost their country, they saw their familiar ways of life destroyed.  They saw their families killed or enslaved.  They saw the Temple that they identified as their point of contact with God destroyed.  They were cut off, set adrift.  They were dying or dead inside, and maybe outside, too. 

            The message for such people was and is, “Hold on.”  Too often, I suspect, we overlook what a success it can be for someone who is at the end of their rope to do something as seemingly simple as that.  Isaiah recognized that God was sending him to speak to people who were the walking wounded.  They had “weak hands” and “feeble knees” and “a fearful heart”.  That makes it hard to see beyond the pain of the present and the struggle just to get by.  In the effort to endure, all anybody can see is what is in front of them.  There is no extra energy to give to what is on the right or the left.  There is only disappointment in looking back.  So the good news begins, “Here is your God.” [Isaiah 35:4]  Here!  Not back in the rubble that was Jerusalem.  Here!  Not in the wiped-out glories of the past.  Here!  God is the reinforcement you have been waiting for. 

            Suddenly the verbs all change to future tense.  God is here, and things are about to happen.

“He will come with vengeance,

with terrible recompense.

            He will come and save you.” [Isaiah 35:4]

What’s more, the tunnel vision that so dominates a moment of suffering begins to go away.  The prophet points to those around them who have their own sufferings.  God will help them, too.

“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,

            and the ears of the deaf unstopped;

then the lame shall leap like a deer,

            and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.” [Isaiah 35:5-6]

The whole people together are invited to be part of a future that is based on what God can do, not on what we expect.

“For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,

            and streams in the desert;

the burning sand shall become a pool,

            and the thirsty ground springs of water;

the haunt of the jackal shall become a swamp,

            the grass shall become reeds and rushes.

A highway shall be there,

            and it shall be called the Holy Way;

the unclean shall not travel on it,

            but it shall be for God’s people;

no traveler, not even fools,

            shall go astray.” [Isaiah 35:6-8]

I like the thought that God even makes provisions for fools.  I find it personally consoling.

            Maybe, for you, now may not be the time for singing.  But be assured, the time will come.  Maybe the best you can do right now is to hum a little bit.  That’s okay.  Just don’t forget that God is already on your side; there’s no need to win him over.  He may be as quiet as a baby sleeping, but he is with us.  Maybe he is crying, like a baby cries, but he is with us.  Maybe you cannot sing because right now is the time for you to listen.  So do that.  One day

“the ransomed of the Lord shall return

and come to Zion with singing;

everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;

they shall obtain joy and gladness,

and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”  [Isaiah 35:10]

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[1] Henri Nouwen, Creative Ministry (Garden City, NY: Image Books, 1978), 94-95.