Few words exist in the English language that are more difficult to define than joy. Perhaps many of us could say about joy what Justice Potter Steward said about obscenity: “I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.”
Why is it so difficult to define and explain joy or perhaps even to possess joy? I would suggest three reasons: (a) Joy, real joy, is a rarity. (b) Joy is an experience, a state of being too profound and elusive to capture in words. (c) Joy is a word we have confused with other words which are at best dim and distant echoes of the real thing.
I would like to approach joy beginning with some of the words people confuse with joy and see how joy is different from these spiritual counterfeits. Perhaps backing into joy this way will allow us to gain a fresh understanding and useful appreciation of what Pierre Teilhard de Chardin called “the most unmistakable sign of the presence of God.”
For some people joy is the equivalent of contentment. That equation is understandable because there is a deep, abiding confidence in the goodness of God and a radiant serenity about joy which would perhaps point toward contentment. But on reflection, contentment will not do. The word is too passive—too settled—and too private to unwrap the mystery of joy. In the Hebrew Scriptures there are twenty-seven words for joy, and most of them have to do with loud worship and praise, exuberant thanksgiving, crescendos of singing, dancing, shouting, music played on the most exotic of instruments, clapping of hands, stomping of feet, and leaping in the air. Joy is a celebrative word. Joy is about a certain risky abandonment—a letting loose and a letting go—a getting down!—a certain freedom as one dances in the light of God’s presence and goodness. Joy is too free, celebrative, and bubbling over to be contained by the word contentment.
For others the word joy means happiness. We all want to be happy, and there’s nothing wrong with being happy. The problem is, we can’t be happy all the time. That’s the mistake of the “smile, God loves you” people. Years ago I had a colleague who had to deal with a rather superficial, happy-go-lucky student who tried to sail through life without taking any responsibilities seriously. The professor, who could actually enjoy life, took his subject and the expectations he had for his students seriously. The student, when confronted for being derelict in completing his assignments, said to the professor, “Smile, God loves you.” My colleague’s response was, “You mindless twit, I knew God loved me before you were even born!”
We cannot be happy all the time because happiness, unlike joy, is conditioned by circumstances—by external happenings—by the environment in which we must day by day live, move, and have our being.
So the trouble with happiness is that it does not go deep enough or last long enough to be equated with joy. Part of authentic living is recognizing and dealing with the tragedies, suffering, and injustices of life. And we can’t be happy all the time as we seek to live in the world as it is. Some may try to dwell continually in some “la-la” land of perpetual grins and smiles and to shut their eyes, ears, hearts, and minds to all the unpleasant realities that come our way. But eventually the circumstances of life will rudely awaken them from their fantasy. And from the standpoint of our Christian responsibility, Christ’s calling of us does not permit us to become oblivious to the world’s pain. So the word happiness, while pointing to some of the characteristics of joy, simply does not have what it takes to accompany us over all the mountains and through all the valleys of life. But joy can. That’s why the New Testament can speak of “joy in suffering”—a concept that is a contradiction to those who confuse joy with happiness.
And then there are those for whom pleasure is the synonym for joy. Like pleasure, joy does feel good. But perhaps no proposed term fails so completely in capturing the meaning of joy as much as the word pleasure does. There are two reasons for this failure. First, the sensation of pleasure depends so much on the shallow experience of novelty, entertainment, and superficial stimulation. But the newness wears off and the threshold at which point we are satisfied is forever climbing. That is one reason why some people become so bored with life and why so many live lives of distraction as they rush from one experience to another. They confuse joy with the intermittent experience of pleasure.
But there is a more basic reason why the word pleasure fails so miserably in capturing the experience of joy, and that reason goes to the heart and soul of joy. Whereas pleasure finds its source in self-gratification and self-fulfillment, joy finds its source in that which is shared—genuinely, deeply, and at times sacrificially shared. Joy is outwardly directed while pleasure, fundamentally self-seeking, is inwardly directed. Joy is something that happens in the “betweeness” of persons. Joy dwells, dances, and sings in the spaces between us and God, between us and others, and between us and creation. And while pleasure may use another to achieve its goals, joy affirms, has reverence for, and communes with the other. And thus joy, unlike pleasure, can find its ultimate expression in sacrificing for another.
In all that we have been saying, we’ve been pointing in two directions—outward to the farther limits of our associations and downward to the deepest levels of our being. We’ve seen that joy cannot be self-contained but must burst over the boundaries between us and others. And we’ve also seen that joy, unlike the surface experiences of happiness and pleasure, originates from deep roots. Out text in John’s Gospel recognizes this truth. John reminds us that we are but branches attached to the true vine of life. We are rooted in God, and joy can be full only as we acknowledge this relationship—only as we abide in the fundamental connection. And because all things are rooted in God, we are connected to them as well. That is why joy dwells in the “betweeness” of us and God, us and others, and us and nature. It sprouts, blossoms, and flourishes in all the connectedness of life.
And so the farther down we go into our roots in God, the farther out we go in our joy, because we experience that in God all things are connected in a web of life, love, and hope.And in those relationships, in that fundamental sharing with God in the connectedness of all creation, our hearts are able to join the chorus the morning stars began—God’s great hymn of love, life, and light. So may our lives be canticles of joy to the glory of our God.
[I belong to the denomination called “the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).” Over a thirty-one year period of time I pastored three Disciples’ churches. Disciples have communion/the Lord’s Supper/ the Eucharist at every worship service. I always tried to relate communion to the sermon and Scripture particular to each Sunday. Below you will find the communion meditation (given before eating the bread and drinking the wine) as well as the commission (given after the bread and wine have been shared.]
Communion
My favorite line from the movie “Oh, God” actually comes from the French philosopher Voltaire. “God is like a comedian playing to an audience that is afraid to laugh.” How true that often is! Why is it that for many Christians the last thing that comes to their minds when they hear the word “God” are joy, laughter, or celebration? Of course, that is not all God or communion is about. But New Testament scholars tells us that in Jesus’ mind, the Last Supper also pointed to the banquet at the end of time when God and all of God’s children would share in fantastic fun, wonderful fellowship, and good food. (I wonder if there will have to be a Weight Watchers in heaven?) Perhaps there will be a sign at the entrance to the banquet hall reading, “No party-poopers allowed.” If so, I wonder how many Christians would be allowed in.
So when we eat from the bread and drink from the cup, we will remember the sacrificial love of God and the example set by Jesus. But let’s also listen for the laughter and feel the joy of a God who cares too profoundly to keep us from Holy Communion—from that sacred connectedness of love, life, and light overflowing with joy.
Commission
Irenaeus, one of the early church fathers, said, “The glory of God is a human being who is fully alive.” Isn’t that a wonderful confession of faith—that God is best seen in a human being who is fully alive? Let us go forth into our world with deep and abiding joy—joy rooted in the love of God and flowing from the communion we enjoy with Christ, one another, and this glorious creation. With such joy we will be powerful witnesses to God as we point the world to abundant life. “The glory of God is a human being who is fully alive.” So let us live in joy to the glory of God.
John 15:1-11 (NRSV)
15 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. 2 He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes[a] to make it bear more fruit. 3 You have already been cleansed[b] by the word that I have spoken to you. 4 Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. 6 Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7 If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become[c] my disciples. 9 As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. 10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. 11 I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.