For nearly five years now I’ve been exploring the idea of joy: what it means, why it feels so elusive, and where it fits in a theological view of human existence. In the beginning it came to me as God’s message in answer to my question, “if not suffering, what do you intend for us?” The response was, “Joy.” Just the one word, no explanation. But that was enough to go on, at least for a while.
The next thing I wondered about was what verb belonged with joy. Were we meant to experience it, explore it, share it with others, what? I eventually landed on something that felt true to my Christian worldview — we are here to incarnate Joy, to make it embodied and tangible, experience it so deeply in our being that we in some sense become joy, become joyful beings, and in this way bring joy to others. Like the original insight that God does not intend for us to suffer, I’ve coasted on the “incarnate joy” theme for quite a while now. It has functioned both as a worthy aspiration and an anchor for repeated meditation.
And now another shift has come about. While incarnating joy has helped tremendously in pulling my focus off of suffering as somehow God-intended, its resonance is a bit too shiny and perfect. I no longer feel called to embody joy in and of itself as it seems less responsive to the conditions around me, conditions that demand a deeper, more authentic response.
As grace would have it, I have been reading Sharon Salzberg’s wonderful book, Lovingkindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness. In it she explores the means and the benefits of cultivating lovingkindness (metta in Pali) in our lives. At first I was drawn to the subtitle - was this a Buddhist look at joy as I had been thinking about joy? As I’ve worked though the book, though, it seems that joy, or happiness, is something that comes about as the consequence of doing other things, in this case practicing being a kinder, more loving person. And that feels right.
It feels exactly like what I do at the hospital - as chaplain I try to bring a kind, loving acceptance to each person’s unique needs and challenges, holding them warmly and safely while they figure out how to proceed. It goes beyond the hospital, too, of course. Neighbors, colleagues, family, waitstaff, folks on the sidewalk or in the check-out line… whoever is in my field of vision at the moment, I can practice bringing kindness into our interaction.
It's not always easy, and I'm not nearly as successful as I'd like to be. But in each case I try my best to make that moment as good as it can be. And I am reminded that it’s always a practice, never made perfect until and unless we are all made perfect.
I’m also fairly certain that deliberately, intentionally practicing lovingkindness will become a revolutionary act in the months ahead. I embrace that aspect of lovingkindness quite happily, and commend it to any who feel similarly inclined.
So, after joy comes lovingkindness, at least in my investigation of the human condition. I shall continue to examine, appreciate, and practice this quality. And I’d love to hear your thoughts on how lovingkindness shows up in your life, and how it does or does not relate to joy.
Ah, Beth, you have it! Any effort to bring lovingkindness to our fellow beings has got to be worthwhile. I read once that no act of kindness, however small, is wasted. Not to push the accounting model of spirituality/worldview, but maybe if enough of us piled up enough acts of kindness, we could save ourselves and our planet. 💞💝💕
Hi Beth, perhaps joy and lovingkindness are not to be viewed as two separate acts, but as a dual expression of a single process.