From Syria To Sentosa

3rd Sunday of Advent (C)

Readings: Zephaniah 3:14-18; Isaiah 12; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:10-18

Picture: By Arum Visuals on Unsplash

My dear friends, what does Syria have in common with Sentosa? As we’ve seen or heard in the news, this past week, both these places have witnessed scenes of joyful celebration. At Sentosa, on Thursday, 18-year-old Indian national, Gukesh Dommaraju, became the youngest ever world chess champion. And what was particularly striking about Gukesh’s historic win, was the delight of the many fans who showed up to congratulate and celebrate with him. A helpful reminder to us that it is possible to rejoice not just in our own achievements, but also in those of someone else.

Then, in Syria, people have been celebrating the toppling of a brutal regime that has oppressed them for 50 long years. And while there is understandably much excitement and jubilation, there is also deep pain and anguish. Particularly for the many who have lost homes and loved ones. Pain poignantly expressed by Dr Raghad Attar, a forensic dentist, who has been helping broken families identify and claim their beloved dead, at a hospital in Damascus: I came here yesterday, she was quoted as saying, two days ago. It was very difficult for me. We hope the future will be better but this is very hard. I am really sorry for these families. I am very sorry for them…

Not only can joy be experienced in the achievements of someone else, it can also arise amid great pain and anguish. But in order to experience this, our hearts need to be spacious enough to share the joys and pains of others. Just as our vision needs to be broad and brave enough to look for the light that shines even in the darkness. And this view of joy stands in direct contrast to another, perhaps more common approach, which involves not a broadening, but a narrowing of vision. Where joy is equated with something like mere optimism. Where to rejoice is to focus only on the bright side of life, while ignoring all the shadows. As the saying goes, ignorance is bliss. But how then are we to cultivate the spaciousness of heart that allows us to share the joys and pains of another, as well as the broadness of vision that gives us the capacity to rejoice even in the dark? This is the key question our scriptures help us to ponder today.

In the first reading, a long-suffering people is called to rejoice. A people traumatised by war and oppression, and burdened by guilt and shame at their own idolatry. For the Lord has repealed their sentence. The Lord is with them to rescue them from their enemies. And to help them heed this call to rejoice, the people are invited to broaden their vision beyond their own sufferings, to imagine how God is rejoicing over them. Incredibly, God even goes to the extent of dancing for them with shouts of joy… as on a day of festival. Like the eager fans of a chess champion, the people are invited to let their hearts be made spacious enough to share in the immense joy and great achievements of the Lord their God.

Similarly, in the second reading, St Paul asks the Philippians to rejoice in a very specific way. Not in themselves, but in the Lord. In the great victory Christ has already won for us on the Cross. Yet it’s also clear that this joy is experienced amid challenging situations. Why else would Paul mention the need for tolerance? A word that can also be translated as gentleness. The willingness to bear patiently with less than ideal circumstances and people. Allowing God’s peace to guard our hearts from worry, by humbly bringing our needs to God in prayer and thanksgiving. As we do every time we gather for the Eucharist.

Joy and gentleness, patience and peace. We may recall that, in another of Paul’s letters (Ga 5:22-23), these are among the things that he labels the fruit of the Spirit. The same Holy Spirit with whom John the Baptist says Jesus will baptise his followers. So the rejoicing in which we are asked to engage actually flows not from us, but from the Spirit at work within and among us. Our part is to do what we can to allow our hearts to become spacious enough to welcome and cooperate with the Spirit’s work. Isn’t this the deeper practical significance of John’s advice to those who ask him what must we do? By taking care to share what we have with those who have not. By faithfully discharging our duty for the benefit of others. And by refraining from abusing whatever authority has been entrusted to us, but using it instead for the common good. By doing all these things, more than just benefitting others, don’t we also make more room in our own hearts and lives to receive whatever the Spirit brings?

At a time when attention spans often seem to be growing shorter, and vision ever more narrow, the Lord continues to call us to move in the opposite direction. Sisters and brothers, whether it’s from Syria or Sentosa, or the Sacred Scriptures, how is the Lord teaching us to rejoice by making more room for him and for others this Christmas?