The Audacity of Joy

"Who has despised the day of small things?" Scripture asks. We should probably all answer, "I, Lord." Our blessings are never enough; our gifts and talents are too small; we never accomplish enough. We hang up on that head cold, the cat who persists in scratching the door frame or peeing in the corner, a rattle under our hood, our long and fruitless job search, even the despair and horror of the daily news.

We miss the joy. Again and again, we miss the joy. Like the Israelites who were led out of bitter bondage and given manna from heaven to eat, we complain and kvetch--"I want meat; I want onions!" Too often, it's only in retrospect we see what it was we had...and how sweet.

Partly, I think, there is some shamefacedness even in our grudging daily tablespoon of joy. We scoop it from the well and hold it to our lips and our eyes dart about, wondering if somewhere someone is judging us for it.

How can we warm ourselves around a cinnamon latte or inhale the fragrance of a perfect, porous slice of rustic bread, when all around us we hear the cries of the starving Third World, or our own American children, starved, beaten, imprisoned in closets by deranged parents? Shouldn't we eat the bread of sorrow and drink tears from our cup?

How can we delight in our loved ones, when others are weeping over hospital beds or coffins? How do we rejoice in our strong bodies--running, leaping, dancing--when others struggle with cancer, and catastrophic injuries?

How do we take pleasure in waxing our car, or arranging flowers in a bowl on a shiny table, when everywhere we see images of people losing their jobs and their homes? Can we pet our well-fed dogs and cats, knowing they lead far more comfortable lives than thousands of struggling human beings?

Sometimes, it isn't self-consciousness about our blessings so much as blindness to them. Sure, we have cable TV, but our set is old, and we don't get HD. We're driving a used car and are ashamed of the worn-out carpeting.

And partly, we judge ourselves, weigh ourselves in the balance and find ourselves wanting: We really aren't so talented. Once again, we didn't get done what we planned to do. What we did do was flawed. No matter what we do, it is never enough, and we beat ourselves up. Nobody ever has to disdain our efforts--we ourselves despise them. If we make a little progress today, we never even stop and see it.

Small things are all we really have here on earth. All we have is this moment. By focusing on what is not perfect, we sacrifice all that is good and sweet and right. Is it not a sin against God and all who suffer, if we have good things and don't rejoice and appreciate them? Yes, we should recognize those who suffer and seek to help them, but we should also recognize and be profoundly grateful for what we have--and use it well.

It is a common human experience to look back, after a loss, and think, Why didn't I realize what I had? Why didn't I hold it dearer? If only I could turn back time...if only. If we only open our eyes, which one of us would not see how blessed he is today, this very day? How sad only to see it in our rearview mirror, or pasted in a scrapbook. Today, we are free; we have a safe, warm place to be; we have someone who wants to be with us; leaves budding on the lilac; a warm, cinnamony rice pudding.

The same is true as we look at ourselves and our efforts. Why must we be so darned vigilant about dragging ourselves down? Why are we so blind to the small steps of progress we've made today, and not tell ourselves, "Good job there!", as we would if we were encouraging someone else. One percent progress is still progress! "That's the stuff! More of that will get the job done!"

Joy is all around us--let us embrace it and rebuke the darkness.