( Phil 4:4-7 ) - [ Deutsch ] - [ Akündigungen496.33 KB ]
I enter her room. One like many others. Small, clean, equipped with the bare necessities: bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers, a table and two chairs. A few pictures decorate the walls. An old woman lies in bed. Her face looks pale and tired. She barely opens her eyes when I come to her bedside to wish her a happy birthday. I try to speak to the woman. Now she looks at me, somewhat sceptically. She cannot answer me. I just sit with her. Actually, I wanted to wish her a happy birthday, but quite honestly, sometimes in these moments I ask myself what I am supposed to say. Happy birthday? In any case, there is no sign of birthday joy in the room. How can I get in touch with the woman?
Dear Congregation, there are these moments. When I pay a birthday visit or another visit, I sometimes don't know who I will meet and in what situation. Is he or she happy that I am visiting? Is there a joy in the room about one's own birthday? And can I expect someone to be happy? I don't think so. I cannot dictate joy to anyone.
The words of Paul in his letter to the church in Philippi make me think all the more.
I read in Philippians 4:4-7.
"Rejoice." Now that is what he says, the apostle Paul, rejoice in the Lord always. And as if he could see how we still sit there, mute and rigid, he adds: And again I say, Rejoice!
Prescribed joy - can that be joy?
Sometimes I don't want to rejoice at all. Sometimes I feel like something completely different. For many people, Christmas is like their own birthday:
there are things in our lives that we don't like, that cause us distress, and suddenly there is supposed to be a celebration, and suddenly there is supposed to be joy!
Maybe you don't feel like celebrating today. And then this sentence hits you: Rejoice in the Lord always. All the time. Always.
Has someone perhaps not understood that I am not well at the moment? That there's absolutely no reason for me to jump for joy? Should all my fears, worries and sadness just be covered up?
"Rejoice in the Lord always."
The one who writes this doesn't have much reason to rejoice either - especially on the face of it.
The apostle Paul is in prison. Whether he will be acquitted or sentenced to death is not yet clear. Financially, he is dependent on the help of his friends from the church in Philippi. And on the way back, he gives the messenger the letter that we still know today as the Letter to the Philippians.
In this letter he wants to give the church courage and hope.
He has freedom, he has a reason for joy that others do not know.
And the reason for his joy is as follows : "The Lord is near."
Advent - the Lord is near. God becomes man. Soon. Very soon.
But it is not just because it is soon to be Christmas that the Lord is near.
"The Lord is near".- When life succeeds, when everything goes well, when we get along well, when our plans succeed, when the candles burn and the family celebrates Christmas together:
"the Lord is near" - and rejoices with us, rejoices in our joy.
And when we are in pain, when we are sad, perhaps because someone we cared about is missing, or because there is a quarrel, or because we cannot do what everyone expects of us: "the Lord is near" - and suffers with us, is saddened by our sadness. We have a God who was human himself, who knows rejection and tired feet and pierced hands. Who is not above the things of the world, but who knows suffering. And it is precisely for this reason that we are allowed to release our worries to him in prayer. For with him they are in the best of hands. To lay everything down with him, so that joy can enter our hearts again at some point.
And above all: "The Lord is near" -: It will be different! He comes to meet us. He brings with him a joy that eclipses all the joy we know.
We do not only celebrate the past when we celebrate Christmas. We also celebrate the future. "Behold, I proclaim to you great joy that will come to all the people," the angel tells the shepherds, and, "to you is born today the Saviour." That has happened. But there is also something still to come. There is still something to look forward to. It is not in the dark - not with my life, not with your life, not with the world. It is going into the light.
And therefore, "Rejoice in the Lord always". On the beautiful, bright paths - because they are a foretaste of what is to come. And on the difficult, dark paths - because they have an end and a goal.
I am still sitting in the old woman's room. After moments of silence, I find words to get through to her. "God is close to you, he is very close to you. On this day, on this night. On all days and nights. He knows you, your dreams, your worries and fears. When you are lonely and feel abandoned. When no one understands you: you can be sure that God is with you. He does not leave you and holds you and your life in his hands."
I look at her - she looks at me. Her eyes grow big - and - she smiles - awake. I sense in her gaze something of the peace of God that is higher than all reason. Greater than anything I can imagine.
I sense what Paul means. I know I cannot dictate to anyone: you must rejoice. What I can do is tell them about God's nearness. I can make God's nearness tangible through me. By simply being there for someone when he or she needs me. By holding his or her hand so that he or she does not fall.
Let your goodness be known to all people. Writes Paul.
By listening where no one else will listen.
By comforting where people are in despair.
In this way, God's closeness can be experienced by others through me, through all of us. Whoever feels God's nearness, dear Congregation, for him or her it is a birthday and Advent in one - no matter what time of year it is. Amen.