2 John 1:12

Although I have much to write to you, I would rather not use paper and ink; instead I hope to come to you and talk with you face to face, so that our joy may be complete.

The Second Letter of John is one of the shortest works collected in the Bible. Not much is known about its context, save for the fact that it is a letter written by a leader of one faith community addressed to the leader of another faith community. It is a letter of encouragement to the community to continue to prioritize truth and love, and act accordingly.

At the conclusion of the letter the author indicates that joy can reach “completion” or fulfillment only in face-to-face relationship.

I can think of many recent encounters with this truth. The first is when Lindsey and I went to Guatemala. There I was able to reconnect with a close friend and his family. We’ve stayed in touch as they’ve traveled the world, serving in the State Department, but this was the first time in a long time we were able to be together in the same place. There was a level of joy in spending time together that cannot be duplicated electronically.

Also, there was my encounter while at a conference in Nashville, TN a couple weeks ago. I was awake early and headed to a coffee shop. After ordering I found myself standing next to Olympic figure skater Scott Hamilton. I leaned over and told him how much he meant to me because we had both grown up in the same city – Bowling Green, Ohio – and I grew up thinking of him as a role model and hero. Much to my surprise, his face lit up when I told him I was from Bowling Green. We ended up having what I would consider to be a nice conversation. The chance encounter and five-minute face-to-face relationship indeed filled me with a sense of joy that I would have missed out on had I not awoken early that morning and decided to explore the city.

Joy is made complete when we come together and talk face to face.

In a way, this is the message at the heart of the Christmas film, Elf. For those of you who are not familiar with this movie, here’s a synopsis:

A human baby accidentally ends up in the North Pole. Santa's most trusted helper took the boy under his wing and raised him as an elf. But when he matured, and grew over 6 feet tall, it became clear that Buddy would never quite fit in the elf world. Told the truth about his real father, Buddy sets off for New York City to find him. Buddy soon learns that life in the big city isn't all sugar plums and candy canes. Everyone in New York seems to have forgotten the true meaning of Christmas, especially his father. And it's up to Buddy to save Christmas.

Elf is a story about identity, risk, bravery, and authenticity. At it’s heart, Elf is a tale about one man’s journey from the familiar to the foreign, in search of a face to face relationship he believes will bring real joy into his life. In the end, he initiates relationships with dozens of initially-reluctant scrooges, only to melt their hearts with his innocence, persistence, and joy.

Elf would have been a terrible movie if it was all about a human who lived happily ever after in the North Pole. Instead, the bulk of the movie deals with tension and a sense of being displaced and without a tribe to call his own.

In her chapter about “Ecstasy” in the book Amazing Grace, Kathleen Norris writes,

“People like to know where they stand. And to be put “out of place” is a disaster; it conjures up images of eviction and homelessness…. But I am tempted to say that without ecstasy, there is no love. If we lack the ability to even imagine ourselves without a place, we are not likely to be able to love wisely enough to heal our society of its schizophrenia.”

Elf is a comedy all about joy. There is a slapstick sense to the film’s humor, but it is balanced nicely with a deeper elements about disappointment, identity, love, resilience, and hope. Joy pulses through Buddy’s veins (along with an inhuman amount of sugar). While Buddy’s joy initially comes across as annoying, he ends up transforming many peoples’ lives for the better.

I had picked out scenes from the film that illustrate each of the 8 Pillars of Joy, as written about in the phenomenal book The Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu. In the book, they identify the 8 Pillars of Joy: Perspective, Humility, Humor, Acceptance, Forgiveness, Gratitude, Compassion, and Generosity. Much of the foundation work of joy is to be done alone, through meditation and contemplation. But joy only finds completion in relationship.

Perspective - your problem will pass.
Buddy most clearly embodies this in his eternal optimism. For him, each rejection and setback is only temporary.

Humility - you are deeply connected with all people.
Buddy’s mission is to spread Christmas cheer. He doesn’t set himself over and above others, rather he engages in unconditional love because, for him, no one is beyond redemption.

Humor - laugh at your problems, shortcomings and frailties.
Buddy has nothing to lose because he doesn’t take himself too seriously.

Acceptance - in order to make the most positive contribution to the situation, one must accept the reality of its existence.
Buddy understands a problem that few bother to recognize – namely, the absence of Christmas cheer.

Forgiveness - recognize you have hurt and will be hurt by others.
At the conclusion of the film, Buddy gladly receives his father’s acceptance without a trace of frustration or anger.

Gratitude - for whom and for what you are thankful.
Buddy sees everything and everyone as a gift and engages in the world in a sense of wonder and awe.

Compassion - Buddhist practice of tonglen – breathing in the suffering of an environment and breathing out love, courage, strength, and joy from one’s heart

Buddy single-handedly changes the environment of the department store, publishing office, disgruntled apartment of his family, and the mail room.

Generosity - desire to give gifts.
Buddy spends no energy debating who deserves what; rather, all he wants is for people to give and receive gifts.

This holiday season, perhaps what the world needs are more Buddy the Elves – people who engage in the world with a sense of wonder, seeking to spread Christmas cheer, and transforming entire communities. That sure sounds like Christian discipleship to me.

So may you come face to face with people who need your friendship and unconditional love. May you find joy in being displaced and uncomfortable. And may entire communities be transformed by joy and grace.

Amen.

Matthew 11:25-30

At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

There is a famous Buddhist story about a woman who loses a child. The story goes that when the grieving mother is unable to accept her son’s passing, she demands medicine from the doctor, who knows full well that nothing will cure the dead boy. The doctor sends the grieving mother to the Buddha, who tells her to go out and collect five white mustard seeds from households where no one has suffered. (Presumably, the mustard seeds would be used for some kind of medicine.)

So the woman goes door to door, from neighbor to neighbor, explaining that she needs medicine for her child. Many people offer to give her mustard seeds, but every time she asks the householder if they have lost someone close to them – [every time she inquires about their suffering] – the answer is always yes. Eventually she goes back to the Buddha, empty-handed.

“Have you brought me the mustard seeds?” he asks.

“No,” she tells him. “But now I understand there is no one who has not lost someone they love – there is no one who has never suffered – and I have laid my child to rest.”

None of what we’re up to tonight is about dismissing our struggles and our sufferings, simply because everyone suffers at some time or another. None of this is about measuring the weight of our burdens or the severity of our sadness by comparing our suffering to that of others. I feel like every year I need to explain that this whole Blue Christmas “thing” is not about wallowing in our grief or crying in our beer, simply for the sake of it.

All of this, for me this year, anyway, is about gathering together – because of and in spite of what hurts or scares or confuses us most – especially at a time like Christmas – and looking for seeds.

Like the Buddha did for that grieving mother, this opportunity for worship on “The Longest Night” doesn’t need to be any more or less than a chance to do something in the face of the suffering and struggle that is part of our lives and that surrounds us in this world. The Buddha never had any intention of curing or healing or resurrecting the woman’s child with any magic potion, made from the mustard seeds he knew she’d never collect. The Buddha knew she’d learn something by doing… by searching… by encountering others… by telling her story and by hearing about the sadness of others along the way.

Because it is worth gathering with friends and family, with neighbors and strangers, even, and acknowledging what God already knows:

That we are hurting and scared by the world where we live. Because of Aleppo and Berlin. Because of Russia and Iraq. Because of presidential elections and political divides. Because of Tennessee fires and racial tensions, the list is so long there’s no time to check it twice.

And there’s much more, much closer to home, too.

We are here because our family is falling apart at the seams – or at least it feels that way, at times.

We are here because marriages are failing.

We are here because we love people who are dying, or because we’ve lost one-too-many loved ones this past year.

We are here because we don’t have money to pay the bills like we’d prefer, let alone enough to make Christmas everything we wish it could be.

We are here because we struggle with addictions no one knows about but us.

We are here because the years are moving faster than we’d like and because we can’t seem to slow it all down enough to get things under control.

We are here because we’ve made bad choices and we’re not sure what the next decision should be.

We are here because it’s hard to be a mother or a father; a husband or a wife; a daughter or a son; a sister or a brother; a better friend… a better employee…a better whatever.

And I hope that while we gather – as we search for seeds, or solutions, or answers, or miracles, even – we notice, like the woman in the story learned, that we are not alone. Not only is it healing and helpful to see that others are struggling and searching right along with us, but I hope we are reminded that we – and the suffering and struggles of our lives – are precisely why God shows up in Jesus – in the first place.

Because all of that is about reminding us that our problems aren’t solved with seeds – or pills or potions; our struggles don’t disappear when we do the right thing; our suffering doesn’t end when we follow all the rules. God never promises us any of that.

What God does promise us – what God does is – to show up in the form of Jesus, this one we can look upon and recognize in the faces and in the faith of those around us. Like the woman who thought she was looking for seeds, but really found what she needed in the hearts and lives of her neighbors, God wants the same for us, when we go waiting and hoping and looking for Jesus, together, at Christmas.

God wants for us to find, in one another, some common ground; a familiar face; a comforting presence; willing partners for the journey; a knowing that brings comfort and peace and hope.

Which is what we’re meant to find in Jesus – Emmanuel – “God with us,” too: common ground, a familiar face, real presence, one who has walked the way already, one who knows what is done, what is left undone and everything in between.

So here, we can raise a voice – in song, in sorrow, or in prayer; we can raise a white flag in submission and trust; we can raise a fist in defiant rebellion; we can even raise a middle finger – if you know what I mean – to the struggles with which we are so tired of contending.

Whatever the case… tonight – and all of Christmas, really – is an invitation to open ourselves to the presence of God, made known through the company of one another, and to hand it all over – the good, the bad, and the ugly of our lives – until we are loved into submission, loved into forgiveness, loved into hope, loved into whatever else God promises to birth from the seeds of even our deepest despair.

Amen. Merry Christmas.

Advent Movie Series: Elf – 2 John 1:12

Blue Christmas – Matthew 11:25-30