My all-time favorite Christmas mug says “joy.” Not joy, but “joy,” in quotation marks. I laugh every time I take it out of the cupboard. I’m sure it’s not intended to be funny, but I always read it with a snarky tone and air quotes. “Joy.” For some reason, a little mild sarcasm makes me feel better about not feeling joyful all the time. And, ironically, that brings me joy.

So, here we are on Gaudete Sunday, beginning the third week of Advent. This year, it may feel more like the Sunday of “joy.” Christmas is close at hand, but rejoicing during a pandemic is kind of a tall order, and the prospect of being disconnected from loved ones brings more grief than happiness. And yet, as a people, we’ve been through trying times before, and our Jewish predecessors in faith have carried plenty of sorrow. Were they able to find joy even after living in exile for so long? As I look at this reading from Isaiah, it seems like they were.

I rejoice heartily in God, in my God is the joy of my soul; for God has clothed me with a robe of salvation and wrapped me in a mantle of justice. . . . As the earth brings forth its plants, and a garden makes its growth spring up, so will God make justice and praise spring up before all the nations.

The joy that comes from God is not forced “joy,” and neither is it just a feeling, which is fleeting. The joy of God comes from justice, or, at least, the anticipation of a world full of equity and peace. We rejoice because God is bringing about such a world. It’s happening in a personal way – God is “clothing” me in it – and it’s happening in a communal way – it’s springing up “before all the nations.”

Also, we can see that holy joy is not just about receiving salvation from God. It’s about bringing God’s salvation to other people.

The spirit of God is upon me, because God has anointed me . . . [and] has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the LORD . . .

God sends me to serve others, and as I respond to God’s call, I find joy. It seems to me that this kind of joy doesn’t just happen. It’s something we have to work for, something that, together with God, we bring about. The spirit of God is upon me because God has sent me . . .

This is a new way of thinking about joy for me. It’s probably influenced by an interview I just heard with Gabby Rivera on Brené Brown’s Unlocking Us podcast. Rivera is an author and the first Latinx person to write for Marvel comics. She hosts a podcast called Joy Revolution in which she interviews other people with marginalized identities and examines the ways they foster “healing, abundant joy.” Her quest for joy comes from a time of great sorrow. She lost a close friend, and as she moved through her grief, she found that “it was the simple, small joys, combined with the intentional healing and the joy in that healing,” that kept her alive and together. She became purposeful about cultivating joy and also began to invite others to examine their joy. She recognizes how people are sometimes pitted against each other instead of helping each other to be “vibrant, gorgeous humans who love each other and are fighting every day to make this world the better place we know it can be.” She calls for gentle, healing language and joy that is “marching for reparations . . . joy that is holding the world accountable without trying to, like, pummel everyone down.” Joy, in this way, is a form of resistance to oppression. As Brené said, “Joylessness is its own pandemic right now.” We need a revolution of joy.

What better time to bring about a revolution of joy than the season of Advent in the midst of a pandemic? We are surrounded by joylessness and downright distress, so now is the time to push back against the darkness, resist despair, and proclaim hope. There’s no way to vaccinate ourselves against a pandemic of joylessness; we have to work hard to overcome it. In Gospel language, that means we must bring glad tidings to the poor, heal the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, and announce a year of favor from God. After 2020, which has been a terribly hard year but also one of reckoning and vision, we need to work together to make 2021 a year of favor, particularly for those who are vulnerable.

Our Advent joy is a form of resistance. As we stand in the darkness, we trust in the growing light of Christ. We keep lighting our candles and obstructing despair. We acknowledge our sorrow but still allow God to clothe us in a “robe of salvation.” To receive this, we need fortitude and maybe even a little “joy” with a snarky tone as we press on toward genuine, holy joy. So, let’s put on our rose-colored Gaudete garments, metaphorically or literally, as you wish, and get to work. And as we push on together, may we rejoice heartily in God, who is the joy of our souls.

By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP

Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She also serves on the Coordinating Council of Spiritual Directors International. She enjoys music, dancing, and meaningful conversations.