Rejoice in the Lord Always
Today we celebrate the Third Sunday of Advent, Gaudete Sunday—a day named after the Latin word for “rejoice.” The theme of joy runs through our liturgy today, and it is beautifully expressed in our second reading from St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians. Paul urges us, “Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again, rejoice.”
Let’s take a moment to reflect on this. Paul doesn’t present joy as a suggestion or a fleeting emotion tied to good circumstances. Instead, he uses the imperative—rejoice! It’s a command. And that might seem strange at first. Can someone really be told to rejoice? Isn’t joy something that comes and goes based on what’s happening in our lives?
Paul is inviting us to consider a joy that is deeper than surface emotions. We all know the happiness that comes when life is going well—a kind word, a beautiful day, or a pleasant surprise can lift our spirits. But those emotions are temporary. They come and go, as fleeting as the weather. What Paul is pointing to, however, is a joy that endures—a joy rooted in something unshakable.
He speaks of a joy that comes from dwelling in the very presence of Christ. When Paul says, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me,” he’s describing the profound truth of our faith: that Christ is present at the center of our lives, offering a joy and peace that cannot be taken away.
This joy is what the Hebrew Scriptures call shalom. It’s not simply an absence of conflict or a fleeting sense of happiness, but a deep and abiding peace—a sense of harmony with God and the world. When the risen Jesus greets His disciples with the words, “Peace be with you,” He is offering this shalom. It’s the peace that surpasses all understanding, as Paul tells us—a peace the world cannot give.
How do we find this joy, this peace? One of the great metaphors from our spiritual tradition is the image of the wheel of fortune. Imagine a wheel spinning, with its rim constantly moving—up to success, down to failure, up to happiness, and down to sorrow. Life on the rim is unstable and ever-changing. But at the center of the wheel, there is stillness. That center is Christ.
Too often, we live on the rim of the wheel, tossed about by the ups and downs of life. But Paul’s invitation is clear: don’t live on the rim—live at the center. When Christ is at the center of our lives, we can find a joy and peace that remain constant, even when everything around us seems to be in turmoil.
St. Teresa of Avila offers another image: the interior castle. She describes our souls as a beautiful, fortified castle where Christ dwells. Yet many of us live outside, exposed to the winds and storms of life. To enter the castle is to move inward, to dwell in the presence of Christ. There, behind its strong walls, we find safety and peace.
Or think of the ocean. The surface may be calm and serene one moment, then turbulent and stormy the next. But in the depths, there is a stillness that the surface cannot touch. That depth is where we are called to live—with Christ as our anchor.
This Advent, we are called to make this journey—from the rim to the center, from the surface to the depths, from the chaos of the world to the peace of Christ. Paul shows us how: “Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God.”
Prayer is the key. Not just prayers of petition, though those are important, but a life of prayer—raising our hearts and minds to God, becoming aware of His presence in every moment. Prayer allows us to dwell in the interior castle, to live at the center of the wheel, to find stillness in the depths.
And don’t miss the importance of thanksgiving. Gratitude draws us into God’s presence and shifts our focus from what is lacking to what has already been given. By giving thanks, we acknowledge the goodness of God in our lives, and that recognition leads us to peace.
Paul ends with this promise: “Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” This is the peace that allows saints like Thomas More to remain joyful even as they face martyrdom, or Mother Teresa to work tirelessly in the slums of Calcutta. They found the center, the depths, the interior castle—and they rejoiced.
Friends, as we light the pink candle today, let it remind us that our joy is not tied to fleeting emotions or circumstances but to the unchanging presence of Christ within us. Let us move from the surface to the depths, from the rim to the center, and rejoice in the Lord always. Amen.