Within a context of overwhelming violence, injustice and suffering, what is the place of joy in Christian life? Under such circumstances, is joy an unseemly perversion, a self-indulgent obliviousness to real suffering? These questions seem unavoidable when unconstitutional abuse of power, approaching fascism, is being enacted in the United States and as ICE agents attempt to enter schools to detain and deport migrant children. When every hour brings a new violation, grief and rage on behalf of our American neighbours seem like the only fitting responses.
A remarkable verse from the book of Nehemiah has me rethinking my inclination toward despondency and anger. “Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our Lord; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” (Nehemiah 8:10) What could this possibly mean? What is the connection between joy and strength?
Returnees from the Babylonian exile begin to grieve upon hearing the law read to them. Ezra and Nehemiah call them not to grieve but to eat the fat, drink sweet wine and send portions to those for whom nothing is prepared instead. In Israel and the church, justice and joy go together. Why is that? Because the law, at its best, is not a violation of the deepest longings of the human heart. The law marks out the shape of justice, and justice is not justice if it violates rather than heals the human heart. Biblical law, at its best, seeks to put people in right relation with themselves and each other so that people and communities can flourish. St Paul rightly reminds us that the law pinches only when it cuts against the grain of self-centered inclinations.
So, Jewish law is no narrow legalism. The law is the community’s true delight. The law restores the frayed bonds of community. The law attends to the needs of those who suffer lack. The law repairs the breach between neighbour and neighbour. Is it any wonder then that Jesus the rabbi rightly states that the whole of the law can be summed up as love of neighbour and love of God? The law’s true aim is love, and the sweet taste of love on our lips is joy.
Now, here is a matter that calls out for attention. Authentic joy, the real 24-karat deal, not fool’s gold, cannot be our primary aim. If you aim for joy, you will miss it. That is because joy is a byproduct. Joy comes from and accompanies love. Joy is the bloom of a life well lived. Aim at joy directly, and it will pass you by. Trying to have joy without love and justice is like trying to achieve a runner’s high without running. Hence the call of Ezra and Nehemiah. By all means, eat the fat and drink the sweet wine (unless you have gout, that is), but don’t imagine that joy can be yours if you know that your neighbour goes without. Share and then feast!
The joy of seeking only the good of me and mine, regardless of the cost to others and the natural world, is easily procured but quickly fleeting. Real joy is hardier. It can be found even in the grimmest of times. It endures and emerges not when it is sought but when justice motivated by love is sought.
Remember, Ezra and Nehemiah tell us that “The joy of the Lord is our strength,” not the joy of marginalizing the Indigenous or immigrant other, nor the joy of status, control or coercion. Shallow counterfeit joys can be produced on demand but authentic joy is not fluffy. The real McCoy is not to be had on the cheap. It is always the fruit of justice seeking. The joy of the Lord is the bloom on the shoot of the beloved community.
We come now to the question that I suspect is on all our minds. Do we dare eat fat and drink sweet wine in such times? The answer to that question is an absolute and unequivocal yes! We must refuse to listen to those who suggest that Christian life must be a dour and joyless affair because the days are dark. Be suspicious of those whose ethical drive leads them to insist that our emotional lives must be marked by nothing but anger and outrage. There is no strength in that self-depleting way. On the contrary, we will find genuine strength only in the joy of the Lord.
But how? How are Christians to pursue joy? The answer is straightforward, though not simple. We don’t pursue joy directly or make it our aim. Instead, we pursue a program of justice, and joy will be ours. Call for mercy, even with a quavering voice, and joy will be ours. Speak on behalf of LGBTQIA2S+ communities, and joy will be ours. Contest those who blame Canada’s problems on migrant communities, and joy will be ours.
Be, in Martin Luther King Jr.’s words, “a drum major for justice,” and a deep and unquenchable joy will be ours. Why? Because the heart’s proper rhythm is tuned to the frequency of love. Our hearts long for justice, so when we give our hearts what they genuinely desire, joy will come.
God does not want us to be glum. Nor does God want us to pursue joy as though it were a thing to be acquired and possessed. No, God calls us to pursue what our hearts most long for and, in so doing, find joy on the way. Give our hearts to the work of love and a deep, irrevocable, Spirit-filled joy will indeed be ours. And that joy will be a powerful consolation and empowerment, a source of mighty strength to resist evil.
