“Counting It All Joy”

5.  Is This Proverb True?

Proverbs 14:13

First Presbyterian Church of Jamestown , New York

The Reverend Thomas A. Sweet

July 22, 2007

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I know that many of us come to church on Sunday mornings to be lifted up, to find comfort for our lives, to hear a hopeful word as we anticipate the week ahead.  Raise your hands or nod your heads if that describes at least a part of why you are here. (Pause.)  I thought so, which is why I am a little afraid to announce our sermon text today because it does not quite comply, at least at first, with those expectations.  But I offer it anyway because our sermon series this summer is seeking to explore the full gamut of joy.  Before telling you what it is, though, let me say that I saw Ross Mackenzie in the middle of the week and when I showed him our text for the morning, he looked at it and said, “Well, that is a stunner.”  And then he paused a while, and when he spoke again he said, “But it is true.”  Okay, enough delay.  Here is today’s text on joy:   

                                                       Even in laughter, the heart is sad,    

                                                                              and the end of joy is grief.

                                                                                      -Proverbs 14:13  

It is, that text, I admit, a bit of a downer, at least on first hearing.  But I think the text is true, too, and that is why I want to talk about it with you for a while.  At the outset, I want to read to you two poems by that marvelous British-American poet, Denise Levertov, to help to shed some light.  The first poem is called, simply, Web.  

Web

 

                                                            Intricate and untraceable

                                                           weaving and interweaving,

                                                            dark strand with light:

 

                                                            designed, beyond

                                                           all…contrivance,

                                                           to link, not to entrap:

           

                                                            elation, grief, joy, contrition, entwined;

                                                            shaking, changing,

                                                                                    forever

                                                                                    forming

                                                                                                            transforming:

                                                                  all praise,

                                                                                    all praise to the

                                                                                                             great web.

Levertov’s poem asserts that all of life is interconnected, that is it a great and wondrous web, as we have said here in this church so many times.  But we human beings have an insatiable proclivity for reductionism…for taking life apart and compartmentalizing it and making it smaller in order to make it more manageable.  But engaging in reductionism distorts reality and creates an illusory life and, so, it also is dangerous.  We are engaged in a brutal war in Iraq in large part because the administration in Washington specializes in reductionism.  There is little sense in this White House, as even its own supporters admit, of a world larger than and independent of our own perceived interests.  There seems to be little recognition that tampering with one part of the web affects it all.  

The other Levertov poem, one of my favorites, is called Beginners:  

Beginners

 

                                                            But we have only begun

                                                            to love the earth.

 

                                                            We have only begun

                                                            to imagine the fullness of life.

 

                                                            How could we tire of hope?

                                                            -so much is in bud.

 

                                                            How can desire fail?

                                                            -we have only begun

 

                                                            to imagine justice and mercy,

                                                            only begun to envision

                                               

                                                            how it might be

                                                            to live as siblings with beast and flower,

                                                            not as oppressors.

 

                                                            Surely our river

                                                            cannot already be hastening

                                                            into the sea of nonbeing?

 

                                                            Surely it cannot

                                                            drag, in the silt,

                                                            all that is innocent?

                                                            Not yet, not yet-

                                                            there is too much broken

                                                            that must be mended,

 

                                                            too much hurt we have done to each other

                                                            that cannot yet be forgiven.

 

                                                            We have only begun to know

                                                            the power that is in us if we would join

                                                            our solitudes in the communion of struggle.

 

                                                            So much is unfolding that must

                                                            complete its gesture,

 

                                                            so much is in bud.

 

Did you hear?  We have only begun to love the earth, only begun to imagine the fullness of life, only begun to imagine justice and mercy, only begun to envision how it might be to live as siblings with beast and flower, not as oppressors.  There is too much broken that must be mended, too much hurt we have done to each other…

    

  Even in laughter, the heart is sad,

             and the end of joy is grief.

 

Again, Levertov insists that life ultimately is a communal rather than a solitary venture, and the community in question is as wide as the world.  So, even in laughter, we are cognizant of a larger reality than our own individual experience, a reality in which there is sadness as well as laughter.  And the purpose of joy is to lead us beyond ourselves to grieve that which must yet be mended, the breaches that must still be repaired, the world that does not yet work for some of us any of the time and not for any of us all of the time.  Joy is no private happiness, but our invitation into a deeper participation in the world where we only begin to know our power “when we join our solitudes in the communion of struggle, and where so much is in bud.”  

So our text is not, despite its first impression, a text of despair.  As I have insisted before, the insight of Walter Brueggemann, the eminent Old Testament theologian, is a key to understanding life, our lives, and joy.  He says adamantly that “only grief permits newness,” for grieving, when it truly is engaged, is a way of moving life forward.  Grieving does not allow us long to wallow in self-pity or paralysis.  Grieving dispels any illusions that life ever again can be what it was.  Whatever is being grieved is finished and gone and cannot ever be brought back in the same way or form it once assumed.  Grieving is what enables us to move on to a new place or to a new way of relating and thinking, acting and believing.  Good grieving never diminishes us but over time makes experience of life larger, our compassion greater, our hope firmer, our hospitality warmer, our love fuller.  

Something else that Ross said to me this week is that he no longer puts a period at the end of his theological sentences, but a comma, and he says that, I think, because there always is more to say, more to discover, more to experience, and because everything is connected to everything else within the great web of life.  That surely is true with our text today.  “Even in laughter, the heart is sad, and the end of joy is grief, (comma)”… grief, being wholly embraced and worked through, yielding new depth and wisdom to our lives and life, gain amid the loss.  

In our laughter lies concealed the seeds of sadness.  And any commitment deep enough to lead us to joy also has within it the capacity to cause us to grieve.  Last week we read the story of Jesus weeping at the tomb of his dear friend, Lazarus.  Lazarus and Jesus many times had shared deep laughter and their relationship brought joy to them both.  It is why Jesus grieved when Lazarus died.  Jesus often told of the great joy he found in his relationship through the Spirit with God, but the ministry into which the Spirit led him sometimes broke his heart when he saw the way that people lived and the way they treated one another and their willingness too often to settle for a shallow and superficial life.  

In our own lives, we know that the more deeply we love and the more fully we enter into joy, the greater the potential for grief.  Through the years, I have been in the presence of couples whose laughter turned to sadness at the news of an unfavorable diagnosis.  I have accompanied many people to the side of a grave where their joy turned into sorrow.  I have been with people who found great joy in their work but whose job was downsized out of existence without any warning.  I have been with people who have loved their lives but whose plaintive cry in the nursing home is, “Why can’t I die?”  

                                                Even in laughter, the heart is sad,

                                                                           and the end of joy is grief.  

One of our members who knew of today’s text sent me an email last night that read:  “I have taken to listening instead of thinking or conversing...listening to creation/God...simply listening...today I stopped the car and sat by the side of the road in a field of tall grass and listened to the fields and bugs and birds and trees and air and clouds and butterflies...I saw crickets and grasshoppers and butterflies mating and dragonflies mating...I saw goodness and joy...the butterflies drinking nectar from the flowers, the clouds floating on the air, the grasses dancing in the breeze, the trees seeming to laugh...I saw tragedy, a spider attacking and eating a bug, a hawk swooping to get a mouse. The mouse cried in surprise and fright and fight.  God is about balance apparently...sadness and grief and joy and happiness...The Proverbs verse has set my soul to sighing...it is a gloriously sad happy grieving beautiful awful awesome day.”  

The lesson of our text, it seems to me, is that life is one.  It is all mixed together and we all are mixed together and life is all mixed together…and all of it is in God.  That ultimately is, I think, the joy about which Jesus was talking when he told his disciples that most of all he wanted them to experience joy…that everything he was telling and teaching them was so that they may know joy in their lives and therein contribute joy to the world.  Joy finally is not a feeling of elation for which we strive, but the sense of fulfillment that comes with living life deeply, all of it.  It is living our lives with a comma at the end of all of our sentences, all of our days, knowing that our lives are journeys in which we constantly are leaving and arriving, arriving and leaving, our only true home being God.  

Even in laughter, the heart is sad,

                                    and the end of joy is grief.

 

That is life, and it is good.  

Amen.

 

© Copyright 2007 First Presbyterian Church

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