Rejoicing

     I am frequently discouraged by the incompetence of priests and other clerics. You’d think such persons would receive some training in occupationally critical matters: how to give a sermon, for example. Apparently there are no such courses in seminaries.

     I shan’t name names, but on this Gaudete Sunday, a good sermon would have been much appreciated. It would also have been edifying for a lot of “habitual” Catholics: people who “go through the motions,” but whose lives don’t make much room for the actual practice of our faith.

     The Latin word Gaudete is a verb in the imperative mood: i.e., a command. It commands us to Rejoice! Rejoicing is not a passive state of being; it’s an activity. And it necessarily involves others.

     To rejoice is to make joy, in oneself and others. I am sad to say that not many people understand that. Even fewer know how to do it.

     Consider the following conversation between two fictional characters:

     “Are you loving him, or just having sex with his body?”
     Her mouth dropped open.
     “Well?”
     Her whisper seemed to require all the force she had in her. “Loving him.”
     “Grand prize.” He chafed her hand as he beamed at her. “Did you know that mine was an arranged marriage?”
     “What? No!”
     He nodded. “Absolutely. Nora and I had met, we had chatted a little, and we generally thought well of one another. But neither of us had any thought of marriage until Althea and Martin came to Kramnik House to broach the idea. Believe me, at first I was certain they were kidding. Our clans weren’t getting along at all at the time. There were grudges running between us that went back a thousand years, literally. But I was pushing forty, and getting pretty desperate to be out from under Dad’s thumb—Al would tell you a better tale of it than I could—so I went along with it.” He shook his head. “I’ll never know why Nora went along with it. Frankly, I’m afraid to ask.”
     “You two,” she whispered, “are a dream couple. There’s no one here or anywhere to compare with you.”
     “Makes it hard to accept, I know.” He squeezed her hand again. “And I had to learn something that hadn’t occurred to me before. Something that every married person needs to know. Something that you seem to know already, even if you don’t yet realize it.”
     Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”
     “That ‘love’ is an active verb. It’s not some sort of dreamy mist that floats around you and him, spreading Dad and Patrice’s corn custard over everything. It’s something you do—something you’ve decided to do and set yourself to doing, hopefully with all your heart.
     “I suppose there are ways you could ‘do it wrong.’ I guess you could deceive yourself into thinking you were loving Chuck when you were really just using his body. But I know you pretty well, Em. I don’t think you’re prone to that sort of self-deception. So I predict that this will be all to the good, whether it runs a finite course or lasts forever.”

     Rejoicing has a lot in common with loving. You have to love someone to want to make him joyful, and he has to love you to accept the gift. But it’s an activity, not just an expression of good wishes.

     On this third or Gaudete Sunday of Advent in this Year of Our Lord 2024, seek out those you love and make joy with them. Raise a glass with them. Celebrate the approach of the Feast of the Nativity. Decorate with them. Help them wrap presents. Pray prayers of thanks and gratitude with them. Don’t just come home from Mass, or whatever Protestants call their Sunday services, and grump over the cold snap and the dreariness of the news.

     Now that you know what to do, get to it. Your Curmudgeon has spoken!