Roqueta Article

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Joy

The following article was originally published in the May 2025 issue of Roqueta, Menorca's English-language magazine.

Writing in Roqueta last May, I mentioned a forthcoming weekend retreat, organised by the Anglican chaplaincies of Northern Spain and the Balearics, with the theme, ‘Joy is a Kingdom of Justice and Peace.’ It was an illuminating occasion with diverse speakers who nevertheless drew together threads of reflection to weave a picture of joy and its spiritual roots and branches. A very basic summary would be that joy is a state of being, not a product of accomplishment; joy is a gift; and joy is relational. And, of course, not all of human life in this world is joyful, so we live our lives in the midst of opportunities for joyfulness and periods of darkness, wondering, for example, what on earth is wrong with the world, and why so many troubling things are allowed to happen. In fact, what is often called the ‘human condition’ is about living with the contrast between the light and dark aspects of life.

On Palm Sunday this year I found myself at an Episcopal Church in the suburbs of Las Vegas, holding a palm leaf freshly plucked from an adjacent tree. It felt odd to begin the most important week in the church calendar so far removed from our home congregation. And something felt wrong. What was it? Well, I have been accustomed, on Palm Sunday, a week before Easter, to read through the account of Jesus’ trial and execution with the congregation playing the part of the crowd, who shout, ‘Crucify him!’ On this occasion, it was simply read by a narrator, and it felt too detached. When we participate in the role of a baying crowd, there is nowhere to hide from the challenging question: when and how might we, as part of a crowd, or even alone, been swept up in mass, vindictive anger? The way we treat the oppressed is laid bare before us. Like all other pain, the pain of human suffering focused on the cross demands to be felt, not skipped as we enjoy the niceties of Easter. It is in feeling the pain in its fullness that we draw closer to the marvel of the crucified God and the true meaning of the divine love embodied for us. It is against the dark shadow of suffering and pain in all of its manifestations that the light of joy shines. We need to be reminded of our propensity to spread darkness as well as light, and that is why I felt oddly uncomfortable at the Palm Sunday worship in Nevada.

But why were Kate and I in Nevada? Well our daughter and her fiancé had decided to have their wedding there. It was a joyful occasion - and most weddings are joyful. Let’s put it this way, I can easily remember the few weddings I’ve attended where joy was secondary. Once, in rural Ontario in Canada, I was a guest when a fight broke out at the reception. On another occasion I watched as the groom’s mother stood, stern-faced, tight-lipped and silent when the congregation was asked whether they would support the couple in their life together. That’s about it. Otherwise, weddings are rather happy affairs - indeed, joyful!

In fact, this world has been filled with much to make us joyful, and this is an indicator of divine extravagance. In Menorca at the moment the adornment is obvious - evident as the fields are full of flowers of different colours. While I’m sure that every one of these has some useful function, if things were to function merely for the reproduction of species or to provide food, it would have been possible to do so without having multi-coloured flowers, for example. Without boring readers with a combination of biology and physics, we possess the mental and optical senses that enable us to recognise and appreciate these colours, which is not absolutely necessary; there are plenty of scientific discussions about whether various animals can actually see colour or not. Human beings can. In other words, we have been given a world that is resplendent with beauty and we have been given the senses with which to appreciate it. This ought to make us thankful, because let’s face it, beauty can lead to joy, if we take the time to notice and appreciate what we have been given. There’s nothing wrong with embracing the wonderful, joyful diversity of beauty, whether it’s in a a wedding celebration, or a field of flowers. And joy can propel us forward, even as we look back on painful histories.

One of the mysteries of life is the troubling dissonance between the idea of a loving, divine creator, and the rather less-than-perfect nature of human life - the contrast between joy and sadness. It might be summarised by an old question: why do the righteous suffer and the wicked prosper? Why is there darkness in the world at all? Why can’t everything be joyful? I wish that there was an unequivocal answer to such questions. But there is not, other than that human beings have been given free will, and we do not always exercise it for the common good - or even our own good! Perhaps that is just another aspect of the human condition: living with the mystery of not knowing everything!

On the plane to Las Vegas I was finally able to watch the film version of Conclave, based upon the book of the same name by Robert Harris. It is a remarkably creative story, with lots of quotable quotes. At one point, early in the story, Thomas Lawrence, who becomes the dean of the College of Cardinals for the Conclave, has to preach to his fellow cardinals. He says, ‘There is one sin I have come to fear above all else: certainty.’ He goes on to argue that living out one’s faith genuinely is a messy thing; we often swing between states of belief and disbelief. Rather than welcoming those with questions, the church has been known to ostracise them for fear that such mindsets will spread - an act that ironically keeps people away from the very community that they may need. Thomas Lawrence ultimately urges the cardinals to embrace a faith that has room for uncertainty, and to elect a leader who respects that: ‘If there was only certainty and no doubt, there would be no mystery, and therefore no need for faith. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance.’

This is why there is no absolute answer about why we do not live in an endless existence of joy, but are given opportunities both to spread and to receive joy. It is why those who come to a church, or any other religious institution looking for tidy answers are destined to be disappointed. There is a blessing that I use from time to time to conclude worship in the church that expresses the acceptance of mystery. It begins: ‘Listen to God‘s voice within; it is the stirring of belief. Voice your words of doubt and question; they are the making of faith. Touch those scars and heal those wounds; that is the place of resurrection. Let the breath of God sustain you today and every day …’

When life seems lacking in joy, then at least we might find inner peace in accepting our doubts, embracing our questions, and immersing ourselves in the mysteries of life. And when life does give us joy, let’s be fully appreciative of it.