Rejoice, Rejoice, Emmanuel!

On Sunday we lit the third candle on the Advent wreath: the Gaudete (“rejoice!”) candle, the candle of joy.

My church has large pillar candles on a table, standing like sentinels, keeping watch over the season. But the traditional formation is a circle, a wreath. It is a reminder that Advent actually marks the beginning of the church year calendar—a cyclical marking of time between holy-days and ordinary time.

For centuries the early church emphasized the celebration of Jesus’ resurrection as the most significant time of worship. It wasn’t until the 4th century that celebrations of Jesus’ birth were added as a regular church practice, and a tradition of Lent-like weeks of meditation and reflection were formed. Around the turn of the first millennium, the four Sundays leading up to December 25 were standardized, and Advent took its place as the beginning of the church year calendar.

But how does this help us see Advent joy?
With week three, we have a spiritual shift from the more somber weeks of Hope and Peace to the rejoicing that the birth of Jesus draws near. 

Indeed, in Luke 2:10-11, it is recorded:

“And the angel said to them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great JOY that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.’”

So too, each year, as the circular year goes round again, we are drawn to remember that Advent is not only a celebration of Jesus’ birth, but the day when He will come again.

In his article, The Neglected Meaning of Advent, Ryan Griffith writes and quotes:

“We may neglect Advent’s future-orientation in our contemporary celebration, but, intriguingly, the theme of Jesus’s second coming runs deep in our favorite Christmas carols. Isaac Watts’s (1674–1748) “Joy to the World” celebrates Jesus’s glorious return and his future kingdom where sin and sorrow are no more (Revelation 21:4):

    Joy to the world! the Savior reigns;
    Let men their songs employ;
    While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains
    Repeat the sounding joy,
    Repeat the sounding joy,
    Repeat, repeat the sounding joy.

    No more let sins and sorrows grow,
    Nor thorns infest the ground;
    He comes to make his blessings flow
    Far as the curse is found,
    Far as the curse is found,
    Far as, far as the curse is found.

Finally, consider John Mason Neale and Henry Coffin’s “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” a translation of the ancient Great Antiphons:

    O come, Thou Key of David, come
    And open wide our heavenly home;
    Make safe the way that leads on high,
    And close the path to misery.
    Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
    Shall come to thee, O Israel.

    O come, Desire of nations, bind
    All peoples in one heart and mind;
    Bid envy, strife, and quarrels cease;
    Fill the whole world with heaven’s peace.
    Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
    Shall come to thee, O Israel.

History illuminates the richness of Advent’s celebration and anticipation. And one practical way of recovering the deep joy of this future-oriented season might just be to believe what we sing.”

This is challenging and convicting. For me, this is a season where it’s hard to see big Joys. I try to notice tiny joys each day: like the sun shining through my plants, the taste of a delicious meal, the smile of a child as they notice you (children’s librarian here!). I truly believe God is in all those moments. But then I open a social media app or look at a webpage full of news headlines and all I see is how fractured and devoid of joy this world really is. Where is God or joy in hate, murder, racism, and war?

As a part of their yearly Advent devotional announcement, Desiring God posted these lines on their social media:

“Advent is a season of groaning and gladness.
We are glad that Christ has come.
We groan for Christ to come again.
Advent is the time in between.”

This hit hard. Advent, the time in between, reminds us that though we live in a world broken by sin, we have a Savior whose life and return will bookend eternity. And until we see that day, we can truthfully fill our days with equal parts longing and rejoicing. We can hold space to mourn, and also rejoice that we serve a God who gave of Himself fully, so that we could experience His unfathomable mercy and grace.

Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel! God is with us.