Last Saturday, I went to visit someone at the University of Pennsylvania Hospital in a congested and busy part of Philly where parking is always problematic. I saw a sign that read “no valet,” but it seemed pushed to the side as if to suggest that it would be used for off-hours. So, I drove up the ramp leading to the front doors. (My friend tells me that I always expect things to be open when I need them, especially bakeries!) An employee greeted me, gently instructing me that there has not been valet service since the pandemic. Duh! Stupid me! He went on in the gentlest and kind way to give clear and simple directions that guided me safely to the parking garage, repeating them twice, sensing I was geographically challenged. He even inquired if I was going to the new Penn hospital. He was compassionate and courteous. Leaving the garage, I checked my phone and saw that I indeed needed the new hospital, so I went back to my friend. On my short walk there, I found my hands upward in a praying position, giving thanks to God for being alive, for putting this wonderful man in my presence today, for this unseasonably warm December day, for my vocation, for being alive. Totally unexpected, fully spontaneous. Simply put, I found joy. That’s the nature of joy; it discovers us, surprises us. It finds us in the ordinary and the extraordinary, in good times and really difficult ones, in the boring and mundane, and in the hilarious and exceptional. It keeps showing up, assuring us of God’s presence, love and protection in our lives confirming for us how awesome it is to be in relationship with this generous God and the image of himself in others in our lives.
Joy appears in the midst of destruction and devastation such as the recent tornado in Kentucky with survivors noting that “it could have been worse, these things can be replaced, and we have our faith and each other.” I sense it makes itself felt eventually among the relatives of those who died in the sadness that comes from the loss of a loved one mixed with comfort knowing that God will care for the person and for them especially in an outpouring of compassion and generosity with prayers and blessings. It is discovered in a quiet snowfall on a moonlit night, a child smiling while playing in the dirt, in an older couple walking the beach and holding hands, the homeless person giving you the only thing s/he can, a “God bless you.” It’s in the memory of your brother hugging tightly one of his sons both shouting and smiling when the Hail Mary pass from Tom Brady failed giving the Eagles their first Super Bowl victory. Joy sneaks up on you in a heartfelt story and in silence when you think about someone you love who loves you back always and forever. I find joy in places that I never used to look for it such as being alone with the lone, just being present, not needing to say or feel anything, being embraced and cared for. I find joy in thanksgiving. Who am I to be so blessed? God responds, “Who are you not to be blessed, loved, cared for, one of my own?” Such joyful experiences sustain and motivate us to forge the Reign of God in our own little ways like the Penn employee who graced me with his joy. Joy impels us in the midst of negativity, hostility, doubt, and fear. Joy makes sense of the exhortation, “Do not be afraid.” Joy allows us to see that God is at work but wants us to participate in creating a world richly filled with understanding, acceptance, forgiveness, justice, and charity, such as God intends with a place for everyone.
I have always struggled with defining joy: feeling of intense pleasure? An inward happiness? A sense of well-being that resonates in being cared for, being fortunate. I was not looking forward to explaining joy in this essay until now.
Advent defines joy perfectly in its readings especially Gaudete Sunday. Joy is “God with us, God in our midst.” Prophets proclaimed it to those displaced and held in captivity. God has removed our sin and guilt. Be joy-filled! God is in our midst. Never leaving. Always by our side, showing up, and comfortable being there…where we are. Joy is Emmanuel, God with us! Joy allows us to join Mary’s Magnificat and sing, “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” Let this joy find you! It’s all around. Then, pass it on!
Fr. John J. Fisher, OSFS
Rector
Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception
Camden, NJ
