This is no time to overlook joy: when in resistance, we have to celebrate all that is good

Even today, celebration is an obligation. Today, if you are compassionate, reasonable, or civil, you live in a state of daily disturbance. We are saturated in cruel policies, idiotic statements, and juvenile insults, all coming from the halls of highest power. Exhausted by the cascade of stupidity, many of us are struggling with feelings of despair. But maybe that is precisely why we need to celebrate. Because celebration is an act of resistance.

John Makransky, a Lama in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, aptly describes the experience of life available to us. We tend to neglect this resource, especially in tribulation:



According to Makransky, we need unobstructed eyes that see thankfully, eyes that recognize the humbling power of Paul’s question: “What do you have that you didn’t receive?” (1 Corinthians 4 ).

Recognizing God’s generosity invites us into the love of life. Fancying ourselves wiser than the divine Architect, we tend to compare the universe as it is with the universe as we would make it. We imagine an easier universe with less suffering, or we imagine a world in which we are more talented and powerful. Then we crave that world. Thus, we end up in a transactional relationship with life, keeping score and analyzing the data according to our own concept of fairness. We conclude that we’ve gotten the short end of the stick and God should put things right. If God doesn’t, then we will.

We should not compare the present universe with our fantasies about a more perfect universe, which is always a universe in which we are personally better off. Instead, we should compare the present universe with the other real possibility, the true option that God overcame for us—the option of nothingness itself. Without the Creator there would be nothing but cold, dark silence.

Now, having considered our rescue from nonexistence, we develop sheer awe at existence itself. We become graced with gratitude, which frees us from the score-keeping, transactional attitude that always leaves us embittered. Having received eyes to see, we can finally understand Iris Murdoch’s observation that “people from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.”

Faith recognizes reality as a gift and practices gratitude toward the Giver. We do not become grateful because we are joyful; we become joyful because we are grateful. “As I take from the Infinite, so I give infinitely,” declares E. Stanley Jones. This statement is surely aspirational. Our resources are finite, and finitude that gives infinitely depletes itself and can help no one. But the sentiment opens our hands, which are cramped from clinging, which have forgotten how to give and receive.

Jesus confirms this truth when he declares that that life cannot be hoarded: “Sell what you own and give money to the poor. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, unfailing treasures in heaven, where no thief comes and no moth destroys. For wherever your treasure is, that’s where your heart will be” (Luke 12:33).

Joy surpasses happiness. Unfortunately, in the world of religion, overpromising is more marketable than underpromising. It is also fundamentally dishonest. The Bible, being honest, refuses to overpromise. Paul writes paradoxically of the early Christian communities: “We are afflicted in every way possible, but we are not crushed; we are full of doubts, but we never despair. We are persecuted, but never abandoned; we are struck down, but never destroyed. Continually we carry about in our bodies the death of Jesus, so that in our bodies the life of Jesus may also be revealed” (2 Corinthians 4:8–10).

Yet even in the midst of these difficulties Paul counsels celebration: “Rejoice in the Savior always. I say it again: Rejoice!” (Philemon 4:4). For Paul, the surest sign of spiritual transformation is joy. Joy is not happiness. Joy is an abiding disposition; happiness is a transitory emotion. Joy is what we experience caring for orphans; happiness is what we experience in Disneyland.

The two aspects of life are not in competition. We need both, but they are very different. Happiness can be gained without vulnerability. Multibillionaires who compete with one another based on the size of their stock portfolio experience the surge of self that comes with increased riches, prestige, and power. This intoxicating experience is pleasurable and does not necessitate any openness to the larger world’s suffering. Indeed, withdrawal into the acquisitive self can render that self immune to the suffering of others. Increased pleasure with decreased vulnerability can produce superficial happiness. Alas, only toxins produce such intoxication.

Joy is a deeper, more abiding experience that necessitates vulnerability to the world at large. In happiness, the self experiences the pleasures of the self. There is nothing wrong with that because the self too deserves to be cared for. But in joy, the self discerns that the world is fundamentally beautiful and good. Yet, for this beauty and goodness to flow inward the self must become open to the world. The self must put itself at risk. Hence, the experience of joy leaves us at the mercy of tragedy, and tragedy can be merciless—as the crucifixion testifies. Nevertheless, joy senses an underlying grace beneath the play of laughter and tears, and the eventual triumph of laughter—as the resurrection testifies. (adapted from Jon Paul Sydnor, The Great Open Dance: A Progressive Christian Theology, pages 207-209)

*****

For further reading, please see:

Makransky, John. Awakening through Love: Unveiling Your Deepest Goodness. Somerville, MA: Wisdom, 2007.

Murdoch, Iris. A Fairly Honourable Defeat. Penguin Twentieth-Century Classics. New York: Penguin, 2001.