Gratuitous Joy

Let me read to you a bit of Psalm 104. This is the psalm appointed for Pentecost. And, yes, I know this is Christmas Eve. My life is rather hectic right now, but I do still have my major holy days straight. So bear with me. There’s one verse in particular in this psalm that I just love. Verses 25-27 of Psalm 104:

There is that Leviathan, which you have made for the sport of it. Some translations say that God made the great leviathan just out of playfulness. In the Bible, leviathan probably refers to any creature of the sea larger than a ship. Today, we call them whales. The psalm suggests that God created the whales just in a spirit of playfulness.

I’ve never been on a whale watching cruise here in Maine, but I’ve seen whales off the coast of Washington state. Huge, but graceful. Cumbersome, but majestic. Powerful, but playful. They take your breath away and fill your heart with wonder and joy… Just to see them in the sea. The world is a much more wonderful place because of God’s playful gift of the great leviathan.

Christmas is a time to talk about gifts. Which is why I’ve read this Pentecost psalm about God’s gift of the whales. At Christmas time we celebrate God’s gifts to us, especially the marvelous gift of God’s own Son. God offers his own flesh, his own presence made human, into the world as a gift. Why? Why does God offer himself as gift to the world?

To be the Savior and Redeemer of the world, of course, you’ll say. He has come to live among us so that he may die for us and free us from our sins. Well, yes, but… That’s really a different part of the story. The Easter resurrection hymns are marvelous, but they aren’t the ones we’re singing tonight. Tonight we’re singing Christmas carols. We’re celebrating the improbable birth of a little baby in a musty stable in Bethlehem. The birth of God’s Son, Jesus, to Mary of Galilee. Why? Why does God give us the gift of this child?

The Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, in a Christmas sermon from some years back, describes God’s gift of his Son as gratuitous. Gratuitous. That word often has negative connotations for us, so I looked it up. It means "being without apparent reason, cause or justification." We use gratuitous to mean "for the hell of it." But it can also mean "for the heaven of it." "For the sheer joy of it." God shares himself with the world out of an overflowing of joy, a superabundance of love that cannot be contained. Not as some calculated means to an end. Surely we do not see the great sea creatures, the great leviathan, created just to fulfill a purpose, existing only to perform a certain function, even a function within God’s overall ecology. And if God gives us the whales purely out of a spirit of playfulness, surely we can imagine God giving us himself in the birth of Jesus out of a spirit of gratuitous joy. Without apparent reason, cause or justification. Gratuitous. Jesus is born for the sheer gratuitous joy of it. Jesus is born because God’s joy cannot be contained by heaven, but spills over into our lives on earth.

And our greatest opportunity at Christmas time is to share in that joy. To jump in and let ourselves be swept away by God’s overflowing joy. To live our own lives in a spirit of gratuitous joy. Christmas reminds us… offers us, the chance to put aside all those things in our lives that are NOT gratuitous… those things we do out of, responsibility, usefulness, obligation… to put aside everything that is not gratuitous and just celebrate. That’s what we’re doing here. These words we say and songs we sing tonight… what is their purpose? They will not buy us salvation. This is a holy day, indeed, but not a holy day of obligation. I hope that this service will help you to know God’s peace and hope in the days ahead, but that peace and hope come from God. We are not here tonight as part of a transaction by which our words will ensure that God bestows peace in our hearts. We’re here for the gratuitous joy of being here. We’re here to be a part of God’s joy. To sing and pray and celebrate just for the heaven of it.

And wouldn’t it be wonderful if our own gift giving this time of year could be acts of gratuitous joy. If our gifts to one another and to God could be offered as celebrations of superabundant joy, in the same way that God offers himself to us. Especially in the press of never-enough pre-Christmas time, I know how easy it is for gift giving, even to those whom we love, to become a chore, an obligation. And there is no question that much of the giving that takes place this time of year is much more transaction than celebration. And what about the gifts we might bring to God? Amongst religious folk there are always the dour voices that remind us that if we are to be real Christians our duty is to begrudge God nothing, and that our gifts to God should be sacrificial offerings of our money, our time, all that we are, our very lives. God expects no less, they say.

Duty. Obligation. Transaction. Sacrifice. Those are not Christmas.

Archbishop Williams talks a bit more in his sermon about the gifts we might give to God on this day. The wise men, of course, offer us an example from Scripture of gifts that might be offered to God, to the child. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But what do those mean to us today? Religious scholars have allegorized them into profound symbols of theological mysteries which I never can remember. They are exotic and expensive, beyond our means or desires. Williams cites a modern British playwright who has taken medieval morality plays and updated them for the present day. In one of them, the men who come to visit the newborn child are rough, blue-collar workmen. Yet they speak of the child with tenderness and awe, and they bring wonderful gifts. One brings a "bob of cherries," red and sweet. One brings a pet bird. And the third brings a tennis ball. Pointless, playful, wonderful gifts. Gifts that come from life overflowing. Cherries. A colorful bird that sings. And a ball for a game that takes at least two to play. Gifts having absolutely no apparent reason, cause or justification. But gifts that celebrate joy.

In this spirit, if you could give the Christ child a gift this Christmas, what would it be? Something of pointless celebration that you would like to share… A kite? A favorite toy? A favorite book? A song? All the tea in China? A week of freedom from worry and responsibility? I tell you what I would offer, something that brings me deep joy.  I would take him with me when he was a bit older and give him the chance to watch a water dog swim or a herding dog herd—so that he could see and relish and rejoice in a passion and purity of spirit that we humans rarely achieve. Find the purest joy in your heart, and offer that. These gifts are ours to give because he has given them first to us. And God desires nothing more than to share them with us. And what a privilege, what a joy, what a gift it is to share them with God.

The opportunity to come here and sing just for the heaven of it. The opportunity to share games and rich food and silly conversation with one another for no particular reason except that it’s a holy day. The opportunity to experience and celebrate gratuitous joy. That is God’s Christmas gift to us.

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