Joy: an Inside Job to be Done
Introduction
The old command to rejoice
The old Latin Mass for the fourth Sunday of Lent always
opened with the Prophet Isaiah’s exhortation to rejoice. “Laetare, Ierusalem,” he
shouts out. “Rejoice,
The old Latin Mass for the third Sunday of Advent (today)
also opened with an exhortation to rejoice. Sitting in prison and bound in
chains,
Some liturgist of the past
thought that the color rose blended better with
rejoicing than the purple of penance. So twice a year, on Laetare and Gaudete
Sundays, rose colored vestments may be used at
The command still hangs
on.
Though Advent isn’t a strictly penitential season anymore,
the old command to rejoice still hangs on in this new liturgical day. The note
of joy is still struck in the readings at Mass on the third Sunday of Advent in
the new liturgical cycles of A, B and C. In last year’s cycle A, the Prophet Isaiah
promises that “The desert will rejoice and flowers will bloom in the
wastelands. The desert will sing and shout for joy and be as beautiful as the
mountains of
The command: un-psychological but scriptural
In this great age of psychology when “I want to be
me,” we frown upon people commanding joy or any other internal emotional state
of ours. If I want to go about licking my wounds and feeling sorry for myself,
then that’s what I’m going to do, and
don’t tell me to cheer up. If I feel
glum, then I’m going to look glum, and don’t tell me to smile because God loves
me. If I want to keep on bewailing some loss or setback I’ve suffered,
then bewail I shall. If I want to go
around grouching "Bah humbug!" like old Scrooge because of something
that went wrong in my life, then that's what I'm going to do, and don't wish me
a Merry Christmas.
You just don’t go around giving
people commands to rejoice or cheer up or smile. Oh, but the Prophet Zephaniah
does. Speaking to refugees in a slum district of Jerusalem he commands
them saying, "Shout for joy, O daughter
Joy: an inside job
The reason why Paul can
give the Philippians a command to rejoice is because joy is an inside job. The reason why Zephaniah can tell a group of poor
refugees to shout with joy is because joy
is an inside job. That is to say, joy is not just some capricious mood
that’s at the mercy of outside circumstances (like getting your hands on one of
those Xbox 360 video game player retailing at only $399). Joy is not just some willowy reed at the pure mercy of life’s
benign and favorable winds. Joy is an
inside job. That is to say, joy is a decision we make. It’s a decision we make not
to get stuck in our losses or privations or irritations or diminutions
or even our tragedies. To evoke the climate of December, joy is a decision not
to be snowbound by self-pity or unavailing grief or useless regret or
inconsolable sorrow, etc. Joy is a decision
not to be snowbound either by our unlucky birth or by the unlucky circumstances
of our lives. Joy is a decision to break out of our snowdrifts like daffodils
in early spring. They pop their heads through snowdrifts and bloom wherever
they are.
A story of joy as an
inside job
Here’s a story of joy as an inside job—as a decision. I received it through e-mail.
A 92-year-old, petite, well-poised and proud lady is fully
dressed each morning by
“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she replied.
“Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or
not doesn’t depend on what kind of furniture is in it or how it is
arranged. It’s what’s in my mind and how
that is arranged there that counts. I
have already decided to be happy with my room.
It’s a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice: I
can spend the day in bed bemoaning the difficulties I have with parts of my
body that no longer work. Or I can get out of bed and be thankful for the ones
that do work. My recipe for joy and also for a long life is this: a) free your heart from hate; b) free your
mind from unnecessary worry; c) live simply; d) give more and expect less.”
Another story of joy as
inside job
Here’s another story of joy as an inside job. This one I
received not through e-mail but through life itself. Five years ago on a very mild December 17th
(next Saturday) a mutual friend of ours (the husband of a remarkable wife and
the father of four children) was riding his bike home from one of the local
hospitals where he worked in surgery. He was struck by a car. From that moment
on, he was quite totally disabled for the rest of his earthly life.
Instead of handing that immense disaster over to some
nursing facility, the family took full possession of it. A rather complicated arrangement eventually
took shape which engaged the help of agencies, visiting nurses, part-time hired
help, and especially the input of a loving son and three daughters and of a remarkable
wife. Because of that holy alliance our mutual friend spent the next four years
of diminished life in the loving arms of family and friends and in the
consolation of home.
One day a friend and I paid him an overdue visit. (It’s
easy to put off visiting grief.) During the visit he drooled and grunted,
mounted his wheelchair with help and then with help again quickly dismounted.
With difficulty he lay down for a moment and then suddenly struggled to get up.
That had been going on for four long years! All during our visit his wife was
there beside him with a hands-on presence that was totally unselfconscious. Inconspicuously
present to her husband, she was totally present to us as well. With a sparkle in her eye and a kind of chuckle
in her voice and a beam of joy on her countenance, we talked about the good old
days. If there was an ounce of self-pity in her, she was a master at hiding it.
To be frank, it was a kind of relief to leave and get
outside and inhale deeply after breathing that dense air of such a long disaster.
As we were leaving my friend said to the wife, “You’re a wonderful inspiration
for us all.” We drove home in a kind of awesome silence which we broke only to
say something worthwhile. We remarked about that woman’s mountain of sorrow—about
the avalanche of snow on top of her. Then we spoke about our little molehills which
we build into mountains. It doesn’t take long and you quickly recover from such
an experience, and you find yourself returning to business as usual—building
molehills again into mountains. But with this difference: you do it now with a
little more guilt because of that experience, and it helps you now to cut your mountainous
molehills down to size.
Conclusion
Dismissal to an inside
job to be done
Joy, for sure, has
something to do with “right birth.” But we really can’t do much about our
birth. Joy, for sure, has something to do with right circumstances. But often we
can’t do much about that either. This morning the gaudete candle, all dressed up in her rosy robe and burning brightly,
reminds us that joy and happiness are not totally at the mercy of right birth
or right circumstances. It’s also an inside job. It’s also a decision.
As it was a decision for
the nephew of old Scrooge. Though he had been born poor and had no money in his
pockets, he made a decision to sing out “Merry Christmas” to the whole world
including his grouchy uncle. While old Scrooge, though he had more money than
he needed, made a decision to grouch out “Bah Humbug” to the whole world
including his nephew. Joy was a decision
also for the petite and proud little lady of 92 years. She chose to get out of
bed every morning and rejoice over the parts of her body that worked. Joy was a
decision also for that remarkable family. It chose not to be snowbound even by such
a great tragedy. It chose to break
through the snowdrift above and bloom like daffodils.
Oh rosy candle burning
brightly before us today, we hear you:
Joy is also an inside job! Oh rosy candle burning brightly send us forth
today encouraged to do the inside job we have to do.