If life is a journey, perhaps joy is a quest. At any rate, a couple of recent, random comments have me thinking about “joy.” A wide range of emotions season our life experiences. Some are more desirable than others, and for many, joy rates at or near the top of the list. And why shouldn’t it? It is one of the premier “feel good” emotions, and a prime indicator that all, or at least much, is well in our personal worlds. We are generally quick to discover when it goes AWOL.
Joy has a knack for working its way onto our wish list, whatever the occasion. A minister stood to speak recently and opened by saying, “It is a joy to be with you today.” My first two thoughts were, “Why?” and “What does he mean by that?” We croon “Joy to the world!” every Christmas as a way of expressing the wonder and the meaning associated with the holiday. We yearn for it, and if we are fortunate, will know that as truth. When life takes a turn for the worst, we may remember better days while waiting impatiently for the tide to turn. With a stiff upper lip, we insist that “Weeping only lasts for the night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5) If our resilience sees us through the storm, as we celebrate the change in our condition, we may echo the sentiments of the Psalmist who wrote, “You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.” (Psalm 30:11) In the best and worst of times, whether in reality, hopefulness, or fantasy, joy is rarely far from our thoughts.
Two distinct images dominate my understanding of joy. The first is from a vacation photo shot in South Africa. The trip included a visit to a compound that rehabilitated injured elephants and also took in orphans (elephants, that is). These are massive, spectacular animals. As part of the visit, we were given the opportunity to feed the elephants if we desired. That is not an opportunity that is available on Main Street, Greens Fork near where I live so how could I pass that up? We were instructed to take a handful of the provided food and extend our hands toward the animals. As they opened their mouths in anticipation, we were to place the feed inside their waiting jaws. It was mildly nerve-wracking to stand so close with only a thin rail separating us from 5 or 6 tons of raw power. The word “vulnerability” acquired a new layer of meaning that day!
The experience rated as a special moment for me, but it was nothing compared to what it was for my wife, Judi. I have long known that feeding others is something she enjoys. Holiday meals. Cookies for a special occasion, or for no special reason at all. Or merely the regular cycle of providing for our daily needs. She enjoys food as a means of creating, but also of sharing and loving. I snapped a photo of her in action that day. The picture encapsulates the experience of joy as Judi offers a handful of pellets to one the elephants. To me as the photographer, it seemed as if in that moment she was one with the world, caught up in that exchange so that all else faded for a few seconds. As important values aligned with experience, internal pleasure spread over her entire face so that her satisfaction couldn’t be missed. I witnessed joy that day.
The other image I frequently associate with joy is from a memory etched into my mind from my second visit to Central America. After a language immersion adventure a few months earlier, this trip was designed to meet Quakers and other locals with the hope of broadening my horizons and building relationships there. Amidst the beauty and richness of these areas, it is not unusual to encounter impoverished conditions beyond what I am accustomed to seeing at home. The experience can be unsettling, making you uncomfortably conscious of your own over-abundance. While you may find yourself appreciating what you have, even more valuable is that moments like these help you realize how absolutely non-dependent “joy” is on material possessions. We are nothing short of delusional to think meaning is found solely in the ownership of things. That truth was repeatedly made evident in almost every encounter. People I met possessed a radiant, welcoming spirit. With a genuine hospitality, they opened their homes and shared their food. Animated conversations expressed faith and trust and thankfulness in situations some of which, by my standards, leaned toward the dire side of the street. In a word, they were joyful, young and old alike. That is not say they didn’t know heartache and suffering, but those didn’t seem to have the final word on their outlook of life. I confess that I wondered, then and now, if I’d be able to muster such joy if I were in their place.
Experiences like these suggest that joy transcends physical trappings and particular contexts. Instead, it comes from a deeper place within. Descriptions of joy may initially connect it with feelings like “delight” or “bliss” but those who study such things find it is more than “happiness” connected to a momentary circumstance. As someone said, “Happiness depends on what happens; joy does not.” Joy is more long-lasting, a state of being characterized by contentment and satisfaction with life overall. It may not come easily, but if it does it is likely because we know our values and strengths, and have learned to allow those to drive our attention and focus so that life has meaning, whatever our lot. Then, joy is possible, even in grief and suffering.
Joy feels good when we notice it. Even if we fail to be consciously aware of it, I believe that it improves our mood, lightens our spirit, and infiltrates our manner of being. Not to be simply equated with the proverbial rose-colored glasses, it provides a better lens through which to view the world. And, it is most definitely nourished by relationships with others.
I get the sense that joy is missing for many of us in the current climate. As I said, I hear a few things. Grief is interrupting our reasonably satisfied lives. It stinks when loved ones are taken from us, or age takes its toll on our capacity to do the things we desire. Plus, a communal fog or malaise weighs on much of our country these days. Division and fragmentation are storylines that confront us in overwhelming fashion. Social media is flooded with cries for attention and action. Changes in policies and commitments leave some fearful for their futures. I have read that some bishops’ lives have been threatened because of sermon content or policy positions. Others now must worry about citizenship or deportation. For the rest of us, we must contend with $4/dozen eggs ($18 in some parts of California, I have heard) and long for unity within our land. Those are the types of stresses that not only squash happiness in the moment, but may undermine our capacity for joy. If life loses its meaning, or if the things you value are trampled, and those are prerequsites for joy, how could joy possibly persevere?
No one sets out to be a joy junky, but it happens just the same. As Maya Angelou said, “We need joy as we need air.” So feed an elephant. Befriend a stranger. Don’t underestimate the power of joy. Seek it. Long for it. Pray for it. And know that part of the task/secret is to be a source of joy rather than simply aiming to have it for ourselves.
