Gaudete

Philippians 4:4 is an easy verse to remember and a hard verse to understand. "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice." I have seen these words emblazoned on any number of T-shirts, key chains, and bumper stickers. The words are so familiar in certain Christian circles that every Christian bookstore in the land carries merchandise bearing this simple code: Philippians 4:4.

"Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice." I associate this text with road races and a very particular kind of pain, not to say humiliation: the agony of the long-distance plodder. A "runner" of my caliber gets to read the backs of many T-shirts as their owners pass. Most, of course, whiz by too fast for me to read, but others I manage to make out clearly. You’d be surprised how much scripture is quoted on the backs of runners’ T-shirts. Years ago, during a Springtime Tallahassee race, a runner past me with a T-shirt that read:

    those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength,
             they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
             they shall run and not be weary,
             they shall walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:31

Then another speed demon streaked by with a T-shirt that read "Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say rejoice." Philippians 4:4

At that moment, I’d have given anything for a T-shirt that read "Psalm 94:2"

    Rise up O judge of the earth;
            give to the proud what they deserve.

The problem was, I’d have had to pass someone in order for my message to be read.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Out of context, these words might seem sanctimonious, even cruel. In context, they urge us to keep going, even if we’re not among the fleet of foot.

There are at least three things we should know about the context of these words in Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi. The first is this: Paul is writing from prison in Rome. These are not words composed for a Hallmark greeting card, but words penned by a man who, by his own report, has been flogged eight times, stoned once, and shipwrecked three times (2 Cor. 11:24-5). By the time he writes this letter, Paul is an old man with failing eyesight and a bad case of arthritis from all those beatings, who is waiting for an audience with the emperor to clear his name and secure his release.

Paul is no fool. I suspect that he knows the odds are, he will never get out of prison alive. And yet he tells the Philippians, "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice." He goes on to thank them for the goodie basket they sent him, but admits he really doesn’t need it. "I have learned to be content with whatever I have . . ." he says. (Phil. 4:11).

So don’t confuse the apostle Paul with a certain jolly old elf who presides at the shopping mall dispensing fake cheer from beneath his fake beard. This Paul knows all about suffering.

Paul knows all about that. After all, he’s a Christian who lives in community with other Christians. His T-shirt reads, "Been there, done that." Still he writes, "Rejoice."

The second thing to know about the context of this command is that Paul thinks there’s a good reason for rejoicing, and it’s this: "The Lord is near."

It’s hard to know exactly what Paul means by this. I get the feeling from his earlier letters that when he was younger Paul thought that Jesus was coming back to earth at any moment. Whatever hardship or suffering he or his loved ones in Christ were experiencing would be short-lived. The risen Christ would soon return to claim his own and to draw all things to himself.

"The Lord is near" meant for a younger Paul what it means to the authors of these "Left Behind" thrillers. "The Lord is near" meant that the "rapture" is just around the corner.

By the time he writes this letter, however, the edge seems to have worn off of Paul’s imminent expectation. Good friends in the churches he planted have already died. Confusion and conflict are plaguing those same churches. He spends his time in prison writing letters to correct the wild ideas that have arisen in places like Corinth and Philippi, and urging folks like Euodia and Sythyche, who are warring with one another, "to be of the same mind in the Lord."

"Rejoice in the Lord . . ." he writes. "Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near." I get the feeling Paul hasn’t stopped expecting Christ to return, but he’s hoping these contentious young Christians will feel more keenly the presence of the Lord among them right now.

"The Lord is near" might well mean that, although he is coming back one day, the Lord is far from absent now. He’s present in his church, breaking down dividing walls of hostility, melting hardened hearts, finding keys to doors that had been shut and locked.

The Lord is near in bread broken, in wine poured, in hearts willing to forgive and to be forgiven. "Rejoice in the Lord . . . the Lord is near."

For the past couple of months the session of this church has been reviewing the church rolls, which is about as much fun as walking barefoot through a cactus patch on your way to receive a root canal.

The process requires presbyters to get in touch with folks on the roll of active members whom we haven’t seen for at least a year, and ask them why that’s the case. Have we done something to hurt you? Are you angry? Are you ill? Have you lost heart?

Some of those conversations are very hard to have, but the Book of Order requires us to have them. Why? Not to be punitive or judgmental or nosy, but in order to restore relationships. A civic club can drop members from the roll for not paying dues or not showing up for meetings, but we’re not a civic club. We’re the church, the body of Christ. If members of the body are missing, we should do what we can to get them reconnected. If we don’t, then we’re not being true to our own baptismal vows.

I think the ultimate reason Paul could "rejoice in the Lord" is because he trusted Jesus Christ to be near in both senses of that word. The church lives between two advents – the coming of Jesus Christ as the child of Bethlehem and his coming again at the end of history. Despite the mess we make of things, despite our failure to be the church God calls us to be, the Lord who is near will not abandon us. The day will come when everything will be sorted out. Meanwhile, "Rejoice in the Lord always."

There is one more dimension to this command – one that would be obvious if the translators of the Bible had grown up in the South. Paul doesn’t just say, "Rejoice." In Greek, that would be χαίρε. What he says is χαίρετε, which anybody from around here could tell you means, "Rejoice, y’all."

"Rejoice in the Lord always, y’all." Even more literally, he writes, "Keep on rejoicing in the Lord always, y’all."

This command is couched in the second person plural, and is directed to the whole church, not merely to individual Christians. It is quite impossible for any one of us always to rejoice. Paul certainly didn’t manage to do that all by himself. Neither can any one of us. Sometimes you can’t rejoice because your heart is breaking, or because you’re anxious about somebody else, or because you’re just heart-sick.

In times like that you need the church to do your rejoicing for you – to wrap you up in arms of mercy and sing for you the words that would stick in your throat if you tired to squeeze them out yourself. Sometimes our own individual faith falls short, and we must rely on the communal faith of our brothers and sisters in Christ to carry us through.

Paul doesn’t say, "Fake it till you make it." He doesn’t say "Don’t worry. Be happy." No Pollyanna piety for this apostle, who survived three shipwrecks, eight floggings, and who knows how many session meetings. Paul is not naïve about the limitations of individual Christians or the failures of the church.

Still, toward the end of his life, through the bars of his prison cell, he sees more clearly than most of us. He sees a future more wonderful than any one of us can imagine. He sees the strength of Christ’s body made flesh in you and me. And he sees the presence of One who is always nearer than we think.