Sermons

“Sharing the Joy”

I Corinthians 12:12-14, 20-22, 26; Philippians 4:4-7 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – October 1, 2017

World Communion Sunday

Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words that our hearts might be opened to our sisters and brothers who can teach of the ways of joy in Christ. In the name of Jesus we pray, Amen.

As we’ve already experienced this morning, our World Communion Sunday celebrations this year are focused on two places. We are highlighting the Democratic Republic of Congo and our brothers and sisters there in the Community of Disciples of Christ in Congo because of the beautiful new paraments we dedicated today. And we’re also focusing on Latin America and the Caribbean, because of the new initiative launched by Global Ministries at this summer’s General Assembly.

As I was contemplating how to preach on these relationships, the word that kept coming back to me was joy. When we think of worship in any of the places we’re considering today, we are often struck by how joyful the services are. We’ve already experienced two Caribbean melodies this morning, our choir anthem and the Haitian song we learned during the Children’s Moment. They’re both the kind of song you want to clap your hands or stomp your feet to. And you may remember a few years ago when we used the “Journey to Congo” Vacation Bible School[1] curriculum, and we ended up with a dancing flash mob breaking out during the sermon, because we’d learned about the role of dance in worship in Congo.

We often think of people and cultures from equatorial climates as being more expressively joyful than some of us are here in North America. And when we consider all the deprivation many of those people go through, that joy can seem like a mystery. In the face of famine and disease and violence, with low access to schools and hospitals, intermittent or no electricity, frequent natural disasters with slow recovery, how is it that these people seem so happy?[2] If we are not careful, this observed joy can become a source of distance between us and others. Because we don’t understand how they can smile and dance when they have things so hard, our brains subconsciously decide they must be a different kind of people than we are. This leads to us determining that they must not mind the heat, or the hunger, or corrupt politicians, or losing their children as much as we would. “They’re used to it,” we rationalize. And suddenly, we’ve cut ourselves off from a part of the body, by pretending they must be part of another body altogether. Because we don’t understand how they deal with their suffering, we allow ourselves to not feel their suffering as our own.

How could we do this better? World Communion Sunday is a thoroughly “already-and-not-yet” kind of celebration. The unity we are given in Christ is already complete and perfect because God has made it so. But it is also very not yet present, as our daily experiences testify. Earlier today, I saw a colleague confessing on Facebook that he never liked this holiday because it seemed to him to be celebrating a falsehood, a unity that doesn’t exist. But what if World Communion Sunday isn’t a finale, but an invitation? What if the importance of this day lies not in simple internationally-flavored liturgical enhancements, but in the opportunity it reminds us of to commit ourselves to connecting with and learning from our brothers and sisters in other places?

In case you haven’t read the piece Paul Turner wrote for our bulletin insert today, I want to highlight some of what is there, because it shaped some of the rest of our service. Paul talks about how the congregations of the Community of Disciples of Christ in Congo celebrate communion. Some of them are in places where refrigeration is non-existent, which makes keeping grape juice around difficult. So instead, they use Vitalo soda, because it’s red like blood. And they might use biscuits or cookies instead of bread, because they’re more available.[3]

Despite these seemingly casual elements on the table, Paul makes clear that the communion ceremony is very solemn. The church doors are temporarily closed. They set aside the drums and other instruments for this moment and simply sing hymns together. The joy is channeled into reverence, as the Disciples remember Jesus and re-commit themselves to sharing the love and unity we have in Christ with the world.

What is wonderful about celebrating World Communion Sunday in San Diego is that we don’t have to just imagine taking communion with red soda and cookies. Yesterday afternoon, I drove down the street to City Heights to Lizy Gidy African Market, where I did not find Vitalo soda, but I did find Vimto, which is apparently more Nigerian than Congolese, but is nevertheless very red. (And quite tasty!) I was also able to purchase a package of McVities Digestive Biscuits, which I was assured, despite their English origin, are very common in Africa.

Almost next door to Lizy Gidy African Market, I found Hilda’s Bakery, where I was able to buy some Mexican pastries, to represent the Latin American focus of our celebration today. We will combine that with some jamaica that I picked up at Super Oscar’s, which is also beautifully red.[4] The point here is not how easily one can supply an international feast in San Diego, but that there are people living right down the road who can make real for us the realities of our sisters and brothers who live much farther away. “Those people” who seemed like they must be different from us in order to endure everything they go through are actually our neighbors. Once we are reminded of our common humanity, we are prodded to ask the question again: How could learning more about that joy we observe help us deepen our faith?

I have developed a theory about this: I think that joy we marvel at, that we see in Christians living in difficult circumstances in places like Congo or Haiti or Colombia, is biblical. “Rejoice in the Lord always,” writes Paul, “again I will say, Rejoice!” From our perspective, it often seems like an unrealistic command. What about when someone cuts me off in traffic? What about when I lose my job? What about when someone gets cancer? How does rejoicing make any sense then?

And yet, if we observe the faith of our global brothers and sisters, it seems they have found a way to “rejoice always” and that somehow, the “peace of God, which surpasses all understanding” is indeed guarding their hearts and minds. If we decide that we can’t dismiss this by assuming they’re just a different kind of people than we are, then we have to admit there’s something here we can learn.

Too often, we have dismissed this joy as superficial “pie-in-the-sky”.[5] When we sing “lakay Papa mwen genyen jwa, jwa, jwa”, “in my Father’s house there is joy, joy, joy,” we may be tempted to assume this is just a song trying to make us feel better by distracting us from the terrible things going on around us with verses about how awesome heaven is going to be once we’re dead and gone. But we dismiss simplicity too easily. The second verse of that song tells us that “There is no more sin in my Father’s house.” Sure, that can be a description of heaven. But it can also be a crystal clear indictment of a society that is rigged to exploit the poor, a society in which only a few have access to doctors or schooling, a society in which children go hungry. It seems to me that a reminder that God is not okay with the suffering of humanity is a welcome contrast from a culture that tries to tell us people get what they deserve. What if the joy we observe in so many “third-world” cultures is not a practice of superficial denial, but an effective survival strategy?

I’m just asking the question here. I’m very clear that I don’t have this figured out. But it seems entirely possible to me that the practice of being joyful, maybe even especially the practice of being joyful together, is a way to maintain one’s humanity and restore one’s dignity in the face of de-humanizing suffering. When a person’s faith helps them remember that God condemns the circumstances, the greed and violence and evil that are causing their suffering, that is, indeed, a cause for joy. Because it reminds you that you have value. It convinces you not to give in to the suggestion that you brought your suffering on yourself. It gives hope that things may someday change. Like World Communion Sunday, this practice of joy is a very already-and-not-yet thing. But it’s powerful. We can see that in the wonderful presence and ministry the Disciples have in Congo. We can see that in the way churches help to broker peace deals in Colombia and Mozambique. What if this World Communion Sunday is an invitation to us to learn how to practice joy this way, in service to those whose suffering we share? Perhaps if we can rejoice with those who rejoice, we can also suffer with them when they suffer. If we can come to Christ’ table with those faraway parts of the body of Christ in our minds and on our hearts, perhaps Christ can indeed be “re-membered.” Alleluia and Amen!

[1] TS – Do you remember our Congo dance flash mob? What do you like or not like about dancing in church?

[2] TS – Is it hard for you to stay in a good mood when things are going badly? How you find your smile again on a bad day?

[3] TS – What do you think about having cookies and soda for communion? How is it different? How is it the same? Have you ever taken communion with something other than bread and juice before, maybe at church camp? What does that teach us?

[4] TS – Jamaica (say “huh-my’-kah) is a red juice made from hibiscus flowers. Have you ever had it? Do you like it? Do you think of it as a normal thing to drink, or is it different from what your family normally drinks? Do you think most Americans know what it is? Have you ever thought of San Diego as a special place because of all the different cultures that are present here?

[5] TS – Have you heard the phrase “pie-in-the-sky” before? It’s a way of referring to heaven. What food do you think there will be lots of in heaven? What could we do to share that food with more people here on earth?