(un-joyful) advent thoughts about joy

I’ve been feeling rather uninspired and uninspiring lately. Something you may have picked up by the quality and number of posts. Quite a bad spot to be in, when you add in missing home, nostalgia about studying in the states, trying to find meaning in a new country, and some really big conversations about meaning, identity and spirituality. There seem to be some lights and the end of some of the tunnels, and I’ll let you in on them when I know what they are!

There’s also cool news about jobs for next year, furniture at home, and some pictures of our second Sydney adventure. When/if I get to them. Oh, and my garden now has some green tomatoes, capsicums and strawberries. No signs yet of any melons, and the rocket has aphids. There are pictures of them too (the garden, not the aphids), that I’ve been meaning to put up, but like I said, haven’t had a substantial amount of motivation or inspiration to get it done.

Deadlines and external pressure help in that regard. So I do have one piece of creativity that I can show for the last while - a reflection on Joy for Advent. I was asked to write 3 pieces for this week for a church. Quite an interesting task, since Joy is not up there with the many emotions running around in me head.

But I tried. Here’s the first piece… a bit cerebral and cynical, with some big words thrown in to show off, but true to where I am. Something to read if you are looking for an un-joyful Advent reflection on joy. (Hey, you never know what arb things people are looking for these days) ;)


Advent Reflection 1 - ‘Defining’ Joy

I’m not usually a supporter of ‘dialectic definitions’. Actually, I don’t really know if there is such a thing as a ‘dialectic definition’, but let’s pretend there is. What I mean, is that I don’t usually buy sayings such as, ‘you can only know peace if you have seen war’, or ‘only real sinners understand grace’ etc. The implication is that an emotion or state can only really be known once you have experienced its opposite or absence. For me, this type of reasoning seems too negative and dualistic.

However, this advent, my ‘rule’ seems to have met its exception in Joy.

I’ve been trying to ‘describe’ joy, and found that it is rather hard. The fabric or texture of joy is rather elusive. You either know what joy is, or you don’t. It’s not a propositional truth - something you can explain - but rather an experiential or relational truth – something you must experience. Hence my struggle in trying to reflect on Joy using words.

The only way I can come close to grasping the real texture of joy, is to place it alongside two other strong and complimentary emotions (themselves also rather hard to explain). So, let us begin our reflection on Joy this week by holding it alongside Sadness and Peace.

Although you would think Sadness is the opposite of Joy, it isn’t really. In a strange way, in times of despair the only thing that allows us to truly mourn, and still come out the other side, is that sliver of joy that seems to be hiding patiently, graciously, just below the surface of our lives. In my life, my saddest moments have often been a precursor to a renewed understanding of true joy and life.

When I rise up, let me rise up joyful, like a bird

When I fall, let me fall without regret, like a leaf.

~Wendell Berry, Let Me Rise

For his anger is but for a moment, his favour is for a lifetime.
Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.

~ David (?), Psalm 30

And then there is Peace. Peace is far more restful, controlled, and safe than exuberant, wild-partying Joy, but yet, there’s a common texture to the two:

Joy is Peace at play,

And Peace is Joy at rest

~ Anne Lamott, Travelling Mercies

Joy. It’s not the opposite of sadness, nor equal to peace, but it’s somewhere in there. It is an other-worldy state that can’t be drowned by sadness, nor quietened by peace.
Perhaps, like any real emotion associated with the mystery of advent, it is actually just grace by another name.