Advent and Lent are parallel seasons of preparation for a major feast. Each includes a special “pink” Sunday, about halfway through the season, that serves as a preview of the feast for which we are preparing and is marked by rose-colored vestments. In Advent, this Sunday is called Gaudete, and in Lent, Laetare—both Latin words meaning “Rejoice!” Both Advent and Lent began as 40-day seasons, but over time, Advent was shortened. As such, Laetare remains on the fourth Sunday of Lent, also known as the Mothering Sunday, a name rooted in the tradition of visiting one’s baptismal church (i.e., the “mother church”). Gaudete falls on the third Sunday in Advent, when we light the pink candle to match the vestments and read Paul’s exhortations to the communities in Philippi and Thessaloniki: “Rejoice!”—not just when circumstances allow, but “always!”

But how can we rejoice in a world so often overshadowed by sorrow? How is it possible, as Paul instructs, to “not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, pray and give thanks” (Phil 4:6), or to “pray continually and give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thess 5:16–18)? The holiday season, in particular, is hard. In recent weeks, at least half a dozen families I know have lost loved ones. For many, grief resurfaces over the holidays. And for the rest of us, the activities intended to bring joy—decorating, gift-giving, and celebrating—can sometimes feel like burdens. I’ve had my share of Advent stress: collapsing Christmas trees, kids using up my entire stash of greeting cards and wrapping paper, my kitchen looking like a tangerine bomb exploded, my house flooded with pine needles, and school concerts that stretch on forever. These moments pale in comparison to the struggles of others, but they, too, feel overwhelming. So, where does joy come from?

Is it rooted in accomplishment? Recently, I came across the reflections of a famous tennis player, a world champion in the 1970s, who admitted that the main emotion she and her peers felt when they won was relief—not joy. Once the bar is set by a victory, the pressure to maintain it becomes unrelenting. I find I can relate to this sentiment in my own professional context, even though it is far removed from sports. To connect this with Christmas, I recall a conversation with a fellow mother who once confided her worry that the upcoming Christmas might feel disappointing because “the last one was just so perfect—hard to beat.” How do we stay present to today’s joy, even when it’s different from that of the “happy golden days”?

The first step, I believe, is recognizing that we do not manufacture joy—it comes to us, often as a surprise. You may recall the title of one of C.S. Lewis’s works, Surprised by Joy. Lewis likened joy to signposts along a road: helpful when we question our direction, but less important than the destination itself—and largely unnecessary when the path is familiar. The true destination is connection, whether with God or with those we love.

Second, sharing joy amplifies it. Paul’s instruction to “pray and give thanks without ceasing” can be understood as encouragement to share moments of joy with God when we recognize them. As C.S. Lewis wrote in another work, Reflections on the Psalms: “Praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment… It is not out of compliment that lovers keep on telling one another how beautiful they are… It is frustrating to have discovered a new author and not to be able to tell anyone how good he is… to hear a good joke and find no one to share it with.” Feeling free to share not only our sorrows, but also our joys and achievements, is a hallmark of genuine, close relationships.

I believe this is what today’s Gospel story of Mary visiting Elizabeth illustrates as well: two expectant mothers and their unborn children share their delight in the sense of God’s presence in their lives. Mary and Elizabeth, like most parents, also share their hopes for their children. Their situations were far from ideal—one was considered too old, the other too young to bear a child—and I know that not every expectant mother feels happy and secure. Yet, the sense that each baby, made in the image of God, brings renewal to the world is, to me, what Luke captures in Mary’s Magnificat, her song of praise, which we will sing as our closing hymn today.

Grief, on the other hand, feels so painful because it marks the end of sharing joy with the person we have lost. The poem that inspired the title of Surprised by Joy (written by William Wordsworth in 1815) speaks to this. Its opening line, “Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind,” describes the poet’s instinct to share a moment of delight with someone he loved, only to be reminded that she was no longer living. He reflects, “Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind, To my most grievous loss!” What power, indeed, allows joy to break through even the bleakest of times? It is grace, which cannot be created or replicated by our own efforts.

C.S. Lewis attributes the development of his faith to his growing awareness of such moments. To me as well, the fact that we are able to feel joy even when all seems lost is a compelling proof of God’s existence. Paul calls such transcendent moments “the peace that passes all understanding,” which we may experience in different ways, all of which run deeper than any enjoyment of our possessions or achievements. Sometimes, joy may  feel more like Mary’s serenity at the Annunciation; or, more like her sense of companionship with Elizabeth at the Visitation; or, like the acceptance Mary sensed in Joseph following his dream. Like the rose candle of Advent, or the stockings my family opens on Christmas Eve as the first taste of Christmas gifts, such moments in our own lives remind us that joy is already here—and yet there is more to come. May we continue to share it with others and thank God for it—not out of obligation, as Paul’s words might initially suggest, but to amplify and complete our delight.

Questions to Consider

1. In his book “Surprised by Joy”, C.S. Lewis suggests that longing
for joy is part of experiencing it. What are you longing for this
Advent, and how might that longing itself be a gift or a sign of God’s
presence?

2. On the other hand, in “Reflections on the Psalms”, C.S. Lewis
states that our ‘delight is incomplete till it is expressed.’
Similarly, in his letter to the Philippians, Paul writes to a
community, urging them to rejoice together. How does sharing joy with
others, especially in times of difficulty, transform and deepen our
experiences of both achievement and loss?