Third Sunday of Advent: Joy, Guadalupe
You may know that this Sunday is called Gaudete Sunday and the word gaudete, meaning “rejoice”, comes from our second reading today, the words of Saint Paul: “Rejoice in the Lord always…rejoice….the Lord is near.” Depending on our own mood, it might cause us to ask, “What’s he so happy about?” Good question. We should understand that Paul was writing these words from a prison cell. While it's not exactly clear where his prison cell was—though most likely, Rome, what’s more important is the people to whom he was writing this letter: the Christians of Philippi. a city in northeastern Greece, named after Philip, the father of Alexander the Great.
At the time of the writing of this letter, it's estimated there were roughly 15,000 people living there, but only a handful were Christians. It’s estimated that some of those Christians were from the upper strata of society, but the majority were either the working poor or even slaves—people who owned no land and whose lives were financially unstable.
By worldly standards, things were not great for these new Christians, and as a prisoner, things were not great for Paul. We think of more recent figures like Nelson Mandela or Martin Luther King, Jr., who likewise were imprisoned, and all the questions that must surely arise in one’s heart, in such a setting: existential questions, but also wondering, “What can I hope for the people I would leave behind? Jesus has made all the difference in my life—how can I best communicate him to others? What do I make of my enemies? How do I make sense of suffering? How can I encourage my friends in their own suffering? What have I learned here that might help them?”[1]
This short letter that Saint Paul wrote to the Christians of Philippi, is commonly called the Epistle of Joy: the word “joy” occurring five times in this letter, and the verb “rejoice”, eleven times[2]. Part of his joy comes from the satisfaction he surely felt, as the Christians of Philippi were growing and being strengthened by the Gospel of Christ that he had brought to them. It must be similar to the satisfaction a parent feels when their child (or children) is grasping and benefiting from things that they teach.
This dynamic bears at least a certain resemblance to the Good News as it eventually came to the Americas. As you may know, Spanish colonials and missionaries arrived on the American continents in the early 1500s. And in whatever way, missionaries with pure intent, had hoped to give the beautiful gift of faith to the indigenous peoples, there was little to no interest; few sought baptism and became Christian.
Of those few was a man named Cuauhtlatoatzin and his wife, who lived in what we today call Mexico City. We know the man as Juan Diego, and the story of how in 1531, the Blessed Virgin Mary pressed him into service: a task he neither wanted nor felt equipped to carry out. Her persistence and maternal encouragement gave way to him finally appearing before the Spanish Bishop, bearing the surprising and inexplicable image on his laborer’s apron: the image we call Our Lady of Guadalupe.
While there is so much to be said about how she appeared to Cuauhtlatoatzin, her tender words to him, the fact that within six years, nine million of the indigenous peoples—while previously uninterested, suddenly sought baptism. The Good News had been officially received in the Americas. And there’s much more to be said about the numerous miracles associated with the otherwise inexplicable image itself. But it is ultimately, a tender story of joy. The Virgin of Guadalupe, a missionary not so different from St. Paul, communicated the cause for rejoicing to her children.
We ourselves, are children of this Good News too. In a way, we are descendants of the Philippians, of the Spanish colonials and Aztecs alike. Thus, we are heirs of this cause for joy, and yet, it is so easy to lose sight of what’s been planted in our hearts, our joy.
Last week I spoke of Advent hope. Hope and joy are closely related concepts. Perhaps it can be said that hope is the interior disposition, and joy is its fruit that emerges from within. As we know well, there is far too much joylessness around us—a byproduct of this pandemic and its effects—especially in whatever way we had grown accustomed to ease of life, comfort, entitlement, autonomy.
But this joylessness also comes from the many political and ideological causes that have us divided and distrusting of each other. It all has us merely trapped in the here and now. For us as Christians, joy should not be predicated upon the immediate factors in our lives being just the way we think they should be, nor our being in agreement on everything. Instead, joy is an act of the will, and it rests on having set our sights on something greater than all that.
We do well to heed the words of Paul, despite whatever way may quickly write them off as idealistic. There is wisdom in it that we do well to unearth and to ponder for ourselves: “The Lord is near. Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”
[1] Hamm, Dennis SJ. Philippians, Colossians, Philemon (Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture). Baker Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
[2] Ibid.