“Revolutionary Love: Joy”

Psalm 126

Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC, Manhattan, KS

November 14, 2021

“In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, 40where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. 41When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leapt in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit 42and exclaimed with a loud cry, ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. 43And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? 44For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leapt for joy. (Luke 1:29-44)

The child in Elizabeth’s womb leapt for joy. Now, I know, I know, it’s not Christmas yet. It’s not even Advent yet. But if Target can put out their Christmas stuff in October, I figure we can read this story in November, right? Joy is the theme for today as we spend one final week traveling alongside Valarie Kaur on this journey of revolutionary love. 

Kaur says, “Joy is the gift of love.” For her, it is both the cornerstone and the capstone as we seek to live into the call of Revolutionary Love in our families, our communities, our world. She elaborates, “I have come to believe that laboring for a more just and beautiful world with joy and with love is the meaning of life.” [1] Again and again, Kaur reminds us that choosing joy is a revolutionary act. It is what sustains us when the going gets hard. And it is not dependent on circumstances. Honoring, seeking, inviting, savoring joy is our birthright and it can be done even in the midst of pain. 

Jesus gets this too, right? In the Gospel of John that we just heard, he speaks of a parent laboring to bring new life into the world. The pain of the labor is intense - there is weeping, there is heartache and striving. But when the child arrives, the anguish is forgotten. The joy of connection with this new child has a way of erasing the pain. The joy and love eclipses everything that came before. 

And so, perhaps it’s only natural that our sacred stories of Jesus’s birth are filled with joy.  When the angel announces Jesus’s birth to the shepherds, we are told that this is “good news of great joy for all people.” When the magi see the star in the sky, they “rejoiced - exceedingly - with great joy.” And even Jesus’s unborn cousin leapt for joy in his mother’s womb. A holy litany of joy, joy, joy echoes down through the Christamas story and we mortals are invited to join the mighty chorus. 

Like pretty much everything else about Christmas, joy has been co-opted by consumerism. I got real grumpy a few years back when I went through a McDonald’s drive thru and saw a bunch of slogans that said, “Tidings of comfort and joy.” Because, hey, I love a good burger, but the joy that comes from an intimate connection with Emmanuel through the Christmas story and the joy that comes from scarfing down a Big Mac are two very different things. 

One can be purchased and the other is free for the taking. 

Activist Tarana Burke, who is the creator of the #metoo movement, spoke about this in such a relatable way recently. [2] She talked about how, when her child was young, she was on a quest for joy. She was deep into all kinds of self-help books and trying to manifest joy. She said:

I didn’t have all the language yet, but what I did have was a job that didn’t pay [well] and a child to take care of by myself. And The Secret cost, like, $119! I will never forget watching that infomercial all the way through and getting to the end and being, like, 7 CDs? $119? I can’t afford that! Every message that I got during that time said “joy is right out there somewhere if you can just get your coins together to get it. It’s just right there, just beyond your reach. It’s outside of you.” And I said, “So what about people that can’t afford it? So, we just don’t get joy? That can’t be right. There’s no way that God set us up in the world so that joy is only for the rich or privileged.”

So she went out and bought a blank book from the dollar store. She says we can probably all just dust off one of the 7,000 blank journals we already have sitting around our houses: “Rip out the first page that you already used and start over. Write ‘joy’ at the top and you’ve got a Joy Journal.” And she started to write down - to document - joy in her life.

She  wrote down things like this: she would go and pick up her child from daycare. And Burke always wears a whole armful of bracelets that her mother gave her. So they jingle, right? And she’d go to pick up Kaia at the end of the day and as soon as Kaia heard the bracelets - every single day - the whole building would hear Kaia yell out, “MY MOMMY’S HERE!!!” And then you’d hear her feet running down the hallway. Burke wrote this down because it was the most joyful part of the day. Even if the feeling only lasted a few minutes, it was so good. Like, nothing bad was there - just pure joy to be greeted like that. 

In writing down these moments of every day joy, she reclaimed the true essence of joy. Burke reclaimed her own power because if she could document where she already had joy in her life, then she could remember that she didn’t need what others were selling. She already had it. She reminds us that we all already have it. 

The Psalmist reminds us of this, too. 

All of us - even those who have sown tears, will also reap shouts of joy. Made in the image of God, we have the capacity for both. “Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.”

As has happened so often during this sermon series, Valarie Kaur’s words remind us that God is stillspeaking and that there are contemporary psalmists all around us. She tells a beautiful and memorable story about being at the bedside of a friend, Baba Punjab Singh. [3] Singh was paralyzed during the shooting at the Sikh temple in Oak Creek, Wisconsin in August 2012. He survived until March 2020, surrounded by family and friends who cared for him. 

Over these eight years, Kaur visited him often and the two became close. Since he was unable to speak, he would communicate by blinking. One blink for no and two for yes. “Papa Ji, do you recognize me?” Blink, blink - yes. “Papa Ji, we are all praying for you. Do you feel our prayers and our love?” Blink, blink. His son asked, “Pape Ji, are you in chardi kala?” Two blinks, “Yes, I am in chardi kala.”

Kaur explains that chardi kala is a Sikh concept sometimes translated as “relentless optimism,” but what she learned from this family is that it’s not necessarily about the future at all. Instead, chardi kala is about “a state of being in the present moment, as if now is all there is. Now and now and now….This is the state of joyfulness inside the struggle, - an energy that keeps us in motion, a breathing that keeps up laboring, even inside the pain of labor.”

Chardi kala is a gift the Sikh community offers the rest of us. A way of being in the world that seeks joy - no matter the circumstances. A reminder that sometimes joy is found in the midst of profound moments, like at the bedside of a man who has survived a horrific act of hate. And joy is also found in everyday moments that we might miss if we’re not paying attention - like the squeal of a young child being picked up from daycare by their mom. 

Joy is found at the graveside. Joy is found on the birthing table. Joy is found when we lean down and watch an ant scurry across the dirt and it’s found when we gaze up in wonder at brilliant red leaves swaying in the breeze. It’s found in chopping vegetables and folding laundry. The sound of a child snoring and the first sip of coffee in the morning. Joy can be found in struggle and in moments of ease. And in a world that is always trying to sell us something - and always trying to tell us we are sorely lacking - it is a revolutionary act of faith to claim joy each and every day. 

Joy is our birthright as those created in the image of God. For God is joy. Deep, solid, profound, simple, abiding joy. 

As we leave this journey with Valarie Kaur, let’s accept her invitation to practice joy together. I’m going to share some questions for your reflection. You might want to close your eyes as you answer them silently or you may want to jot down your responses. 

Guided inquiry from Kaur

1. What brings you joy? Choose one thing that is simple and accessible. A person, a place, or an activity that you could go to right now if you wanted to. 

2. Notice what it is about this thing that brings you joy. See it, touch it, taste it. Remember how it felt when you were fully in it. The  sensation could be very strong. Or just a slight feeling. Place more attention on it. Let yourself enjoy it. 

3. What does joy feel like in your body? Notice where you feel sensation, ease, and tingling. Place your attention there and notice what happens. Go back and forth between your source of joy and the sensations in your body.

4. Notice any blocks to letting yourself feel this joy. Feelings of guilt or shame? Stories about what you deserve? Call upon your deepest wisdom to speak to yourself as you would your own beloved child or best friend. What do you hear? 

5. What do you need to protect this joy every day? Joy is your birthright. The deepest wisdom within you knows what you need to do. Listen. [4]

NOTES

[1] https://valariekaur.com/learninghub/10-joy/ 

[2] We Can Do Hard Things podcast, episode 34, “Unbound with Tarana Burke, part 1,” Oct. 12, 2021. 

[3] Kaur, Valarie. See No Stranger, 242. 

[4] https://valariekaur.com/learninghub/10-joy/ 

“Revolutionary Love: Loving Ourselves”

1 Kings 19:1-13

Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC, Manhattan, KS

November 7, 2021

If ever there were a Biblical poster-boy for depression, Elijah might be it. [1] In today’s reading, he’s in a downward spiral. He’s just gone toe-to-toe with the priests of Baal. He’s called down actual fire from heaven and brought rain to people who had been living through a drought for seven years. The great Troubler of Israel has put on such a show that he brought the nation safely back under God’s wing. 

Though he appears successful, one threatening word from Queen Jezebel brings it all crashing down. When she threatens his life, he spirals into fear. He runs and runs until he crashes. 

Now, anyone who has ever battled depression probably isn’t too surprised by this. Because you know that you can find yourself in a downward spiral at any time. It doesn’t only happen when things are going badly. It can also happen when it looks like you’ve got it together. 

And those who have lived with depression will also likely feel a kindred connection to Elijah when we hear his lament, “It is enough now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” Elijah collapses in despair under a solitary broom tree in the wilderness.. He doesn’t seem to have any plans for the future. He’s just done. 

But an angel comes along and nudges him, “Get up and eat.” And so he does. But then he’s right back in bed with the covers pulled up over his head. This angel, though, is like the friend who comes over and pounds on your door and walks you into the bathroom and turns on the shower and tells you you have to get in. “Get up. Eat! Otherwise, this isn’t going to end well.” And so Elijah eats again. And somehow finds the energy to keep going. 

There was a tweet from a couple of years ago that I love. Joy Marie Clarkson said, “This is your gentle reminder that one time in the Bible Elijah was like “God, I’m so mad! I want to die!” so God said “Here’s some food. Why don’t you have a nap?” So Elijah slept, ate, & decided things weren't so bad. Never underestimate the spiritual power of a nap & a snack.” [2]

To be clear: a nap and a snack doesn’t fix clinical depression. We are blessed with many other powerful, healing tools available to us now like trained therapists and brain science and medication. We can go way beyond a nap and a snack, thanks be to God. 

And still, this tweet makes me smile because she gets at something really important, I think, and that’s how embodied our struggles can be. As much as we might like to try and put things into categories like “mental” health, “spiritual” practices, nutrition, exercise, and other physical components - the truth is, they’re all connected, right?  And when the angel visits Elijah, we see this. He is mentally low, low, low and he is physically unable to get up and keep going. The angel comes and ministers to his spirit by telling him to care for his body. The nap and the snack don’t just help Elijah’s body, they are also a balm for his spirit and mind. 

Our Stillspeaking God reminds us about the mind-body-spirit connection through the story of Elijah and ALSO through the wise teachings of Valarie Kaur. We are nearing the end of our journey with her book, See No Stranger, and this week we are exploring the three chapters about loving ourselves: breathe, push, and transition. 

The images in these chapters are of labor and birth. That is to say the stories are messy, bloody, damp, and filled with exhaustion and ecstacy in equal measure. One of the things that Kaur makes clear is that the work of loving ourselves doesn’t happen in isolation. Hers is not a gospel of self-care that says we can dig our way out of despair simply by carving out “me time.” Instead, she shares the wisdom of her friend Melissa Harris-Perry who says we need to move beyond self-care to “collective-care.”  Kaur says, “The term ‘self-care’ implies that caring for ourselves is a private, individual act, that we need only to detach ourselves from our web of relations and spend our resources on respite or pampering. But Melissa reminds us that care is labor that we all do for one another, in seen and unseen ways….Meslissa calls for ‘squad-care’ - a way to be in relationship with people committed to caring for one another. ‘Squad-care reminds us...our job is to have each other’s back.’” [3] 

Elijah didn’t pull himself off.  Instead, the angel in the story represents squad-care, the community at work making space for him to breathe, push, and transition into the next stage of his journey. Loving ourselves isn’t only about speaking gently to ourselves, honoring our boundaries, and making intentional choices about how we treat ourselves. It’s also about allowing God to love us through other people. 

One of my dear friends lost her mother earlier this week. Earlier this week I was scrolling through Facebook and stopped and lost my breath for a moment because of the beauty of a photo she shared. It was a photo of my friend, curled up with her mom in the hospital bed. Her mom’s arms are wrapped around her tightly and her mom looks up at the camera, grinning from ear to ear. My friend’s eyes are closed, with her head resting on her mom’s shoulder. The photo exudes peace, trust, joy, comfort, love. It is a photo of giving and receiving love. And, in it, I saw the arms of the Spirit wrapped tightly and fiercely around both of Her beloved daughters as they learn to let go. My friend said of this week, “Time is so weird in this liminal world at the edge of life and death. It feels like another kind of birth process… but in reverse. She is going through a different kind of labor. The Holy is luring her Spirit back into the great Love of the universe. We are holding her hand as she goes slowly…”

These moments when we are pushed to the very edge like Elijah was - these moments like the one my friend captured with her mom - these are spaces of transition. The final stage of giving birth is called transition. It is the most intense and dangerous stage of labor. Contractions are often right on top of each other and time seems to lose all meaning. Kaur says, “Transition feels like dying but it is the stage that precedes the birth of new life.” One of the phrases Kaur is known for is this question: “Is this the darkness of the tomb or the darkness of the womb?” Sometimes, when we’re in a heap on the ground like Elijah, it can be awfully hard to tell. 

Sometimes, when our whole society seems to be going through transition together, the labor can feel overwhelming. We can’t yet see what is being born and we are stuck in the pain of labor, unsure where we’re headed. 

When transition terrifies, Kaur reminds us how important it is to get quiet. To breathe. 

She writes about two voices that live inside of her - competing for her attention. One of them she calls “Little Critic.” He’s the voice of doubt that tells her she’s never good enough and that danger lurks around every corner. He’s Queen Jezebel, sending her packing in despair. The other voice she calls Wise Woman. She writes about how Wise Woman is quieterl. She has to make space to hear her voice. Kaur began sitting down with a blank journal just to listen to Wise Woman. She would write at the top of the page “Wise Woman here. Wise Woman says…” and then she listens and writes. 

I wonder if that’s what Elijah was doing when he found himself in the cave. After the nap, after the snack, after he put one foot in front of the other he found himself in the darkness of - a womb? A tomb? - a cave. 

And the word of the Lord came to him and told him to go outside on the mountain and to listen, for God was about to pass by. And there was a great wind, a wind so strong that it split rocks, but God’s voice wasn’t in the big wind. And then there was an earthquake...and a fire..but God’s voice wasn’t there, either. Finally, there was the sound of silence. The Wise Woman whispering so quietly she was barely audible at all. 

And Elijah turned his face into the silence and listened with the ear of his heart. He picked up a pen and wrote at the top of the page, “Wise Woman here. Wise Woman says….”

Thanks be to our Stillspeaking God. 

NOTES:

[1] Here’s a nice blog post about this: https://wordsbymatthew.com/blog/7-lessons-depression-elijah-suicidal-prophet 

[2] https://twitter.com/joynessthebrave/status/1101120361012346881?lang=en 

[3] Kaur, Valarie. See No Stranger, p. 248-249.