Fortnight – Day5: Joy #2

When I read that comedy clubs were not allowed to be open in certain cities due to the corona virus, I confess to being sad. This was a time when the good medicine of humor was needed. We had already lost the joy of choral groups singing together and now, now comedy clubs!

As we face the presidential elections what evidence is there that Donald Trump or Joe Biden might encourage joy? Too often, when a little lightness of heart might be a gift for our nation, we instead are offered a tour of potential fear and places of distrust. I am eager to have comedy clubs open again — even more — I am ready for congregations that help us know the joy of faith. For now, this may be limited to online worship.

There should be more laughter in our congregations; not necessarily the comedy club type but not excluding that either. This is a sign of liberation, of healing, of joy. (I am not speaking of what was called “Holy Laughter,” associated with the phenomenon known as the “Toronto Blessing,” popular a few years back. That always seemed to me to be contrived.) I am speaking of joy related to the everyday lives and troubles of a people… things that can be best spoken of in worship, with other believers. Some of the best laughter I remember occurred at a funeral.

I was reminded of an exercise on discovering more joyful living prepared for persons at a spiritual retreat. A copy is attached below.

The scriptures are filled with joy and rejoicing. There are parables of Luke 15, where there is rejoicing over the return of the lost sheep, the coin, the son. As Psalm 30:5 observes God’s intentions are that we should discover that, “Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.”

In the early 1980s I traveled with a group called Witness for Peace to the war zone between Honduras and Nicaragua. One evening we joined a group of villagers for worship. Even as there were distant rumblings from mortars exploding a few miles away, I was struck by the joyous character of the outdoor worship. There were songs accompanied by guitars and drums and tambourines. At one point in the liturgy a woman came to the center of circle. Barefoot, in a frayed, modest dress, she called us to prayer. She began, “And now we remember all the poor and suffering of our world.” It was a prayer of gratitude for the goodness of God. As the prayer ended, and the congregation shouted “AMEN,” a mortar shell echoed across the valley. It was as if in refrain. We all laughed. In that moment we saw the absurdity of war and violence so nearby as we gathered at the table of the Lord!

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Mary Oliver’s Mindful

Everyday
I see or hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for —
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world —
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant —
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these —
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

“Mindful” by Mary Oliver from Why I Wake Early, Beacon Press, 2005.

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From the Epistle of James, “My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing.” (Vs 1:2-4)