Advent Week Four: Joy
Again, there is some disagreement out there about the Advent theme this week. Some say joy was last week, and this week is love. Some reverse it. Some hold other meanings for the weeks altogether.
For what it’s worth, it doesn’t really matter what subject you are contemplating each week. It is the act of contemplating during this period of spiritual reflection that is important, especially this year. Say formal prayers if you prefer, if that feels possible for you. If it doesn’t, something simple will do. Take some time in silence, focus on your breath to quiet your mind, and open your heart to the Divine. Have a quick check-in about how you are doing. A lament is fine. Service is important, but I believe that a healthy spiritual family cares about how you are doing, too.
I’ll be using this last Advent reflection to examine the concept of joy in our spiritual selves.
Those of you who have been following this series know that for most of it, I have spoken about the weekly themes through the lens of social justice. I’ve discussed how I believe in social justice as a faith-driven obligation or duty, at least for those of us following benevolent spiritual paths.
This week, I want to travel inward. It’s important to tend to our own spirit to be able to do the work of social justice, to be of service at all to others and the Divine. If our well is dry, we have nothing to pour out for others.
Joy can be elusive, especially during times like those we are currently living through. How can it even be possible to access joy when so much of the world is suffering; when we, ourselves, are suffering so deeply?
The truth is, we can’t always be joyous, and that needs to be viewed as acceptable. We live in a society that demands we put on a smile and pretend that things are fine. Our common greeting, “How are you?” is most often not actually meant sincerely. “Fine, thanks, you?” is expected. Anything else can get awkward quickly. It may be the reality of today’s world, but in my opinion, this is toxic. We are humans with valid feelings, and especially right now, I think we could stand to listen and show more empathy towards one another.
So, how do we access joy during difficult times? It’s different for all of us. Part of the key, though, is gratitude.
I nearly died in 2019 from a condition called PRES, which resulted in multiple hemorrhagic strokes. I was intubated and sedated for a few days. When I woke up, I was confused and scared, but there was a brand new bright feeling that rarely left me. Part of it was survival euphoria, but some of it never faded, as euphoria does.
I lost a lot of function, but not my stubborn streak. After being intubated, I needed to be coached on how to breathe and swallow properly again. I was unable to sit up, but for some reason, I was absolutely convinced I could stand up on my own. I would fight with my partner over it, to the point she needed to draw an understandable boundary. She couldn’t tolerate me being so belligerent on top of anything else, nor should she have been expected to. I was not behaving in an acceptable manner. I’m grateful she got through to me, and I stopped arguing with her about it.
But I was still absolutely convinced that I could stand.
Finally, the hospital brought a physical therapist and an occupational therapist in, helped me sit up, and showed me: I could not stand.
I didn’t understand just how much I had lost until that moment. I needed to start over. I had to regain the use of my limbs, and relearn how to walk. I was in an incredible amount of pain, all the time. Pushing to sit up, then stand, and so forth… it all made the pain worse.
I’m not physically able to tolerate pain medication, so I felt every bit of it. I say that with absolutely no self-righteousness. I am grateful others can tolerate and access pain relief, and I believe the way pain care is currently handled is inhumane. But that’s another issue altogether.
Still, though, I remained full of gratitude for surviving. I was not expected to survive, and if I did, I was not expected to be very functional. I was very lucky to have come through with my mind (mostly) intact. I was able to regain some mobility through rehabilitation, although I do use a walker and a wheelchair to get around.
I cannot explain to you how I, an often pessimistic cynic, traveled through one of the hardest periods of my life with joyful hope and optimism.
I believe it was grace, delivered to my spirit as an answer to my prayers and the prayers of those who care about me. It propped me up and gave me strength in my weakest moments.
That’s not to take any credit away from the wonderful medical staff that saved my life. I believe the Divine worked along with them, but not ahead of them. It doesn’t feel good to me when people elevate their spirituality over the hard work of medical staff. They can coexist, and the people helping should be recognized.
Anyway, the point of going into all of this is that joy can find us in the most unexpected of times. A hug that is really genuine and at just the right moment. Kind words. Self-care. These can all be manifestations of joy.
Joy doesn’t have to be trumpets blaring from the heavens. It can be a simple, quiet moment that helps recharge you and your spirit to fight another day. It can be that moment your favorite TV show makes you snort out loud despite a heavy load you may be dealing with.
You know, there are a lot of prayers attributed to saints, but in my opinion, nobody prays the way St. Brigid of Kildare prayed. There is one prayer attributed to her, the translation and interpretation of which is attributed to Brendan Kennelly. Reading this, it would be easy to imagine a woman who loved to spread joy and mirth.
St. Brigid was not saying we should just pretend to be joyful all the time. Joy is an act of prayer in itself. Offering joy to our spirit and those who are part of our spiritual family. Tending to ourselves so we can continue our service to them and each other. Trying to steal whatever moments of joy we can find during the hardest of times, as medicine for our souls.
We are in the last week of Advent, and Christians are celebrating their traditional holiday marking the arrival of baby Jesus. Monday was the winter solstice and the beginning of the 12 days of Yule. People of various spiritualities are celebrating anticipating the return of light.
Neither the story of the nativity, nor the origins of solstice celebrations were born of joy. In both scenarios, joy either happens spontaneously (as in the birth of Jesus in the stable), or joy is created in order to bring hope that the dark season will pass, clearing the way for warmer days and celebrations for a bountiful harvest.
Regardless of whether joy is deliberately manifested or spontaneous, we need bright moments of joy to carry us through the dark. These moments of respite help recharge our spirits and keep us going.
This year, we need these moments more than ever. Take them when they come, be safe when searching for your joy, and by God, do not feel guilty for time spent in joy. Just don’t be foolish or reckless in your pursuit of respite, no matter how hard things are. If there’s an obligation outside of the self for this reflection, it is that we all need to learn how to find joy while taking enough care to keep each other safe.
May your moments of joy be plentiful and restorative. Merry Christmas, Happy Solstice, Blessed Yule, Chag Sameach, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy New Year. Happy Holidays. If I have missed a holiday, it is inadvertent. Please forgive the omission, but also please leave a comment about it so I can be more inclusive.
Blessings to you this Advent season.
