We have come to a day of joy in the middle of Lent, and not only a day, but a week and more! Having come through the first stretch of the Lenten desert under the instruction of its stark simplicity, we are now at that refreshing oasis which comes to us every year in Laetare Sunday, in the celebration of our Irish roots with St Patrick this Wednesday, of rejoicing to be under the paternal shade of St Joseph this Friday, which is also Maggie’s special day, and we must not forget the gift of the Annunciation, which this year pops up like a crocus in the midst of Passiontide.
According to St Benedict, joy is a notable feature of our Lenten journey, as of our monastic journey. We know well that his chapter on the observance of Lent contains the only two reference to joy in the Rule. This joy is perhaps surprisingly tied to our self-denial and self-offering:
“Each of us will have something above the assigned measure to offer God of his own will with the joy of the Holy Spirit (1 Thess 1:6). In other words, let each one deny himself some food, drink, sleep, needless talking and idle jesting, and look forward to holy Easter with joy and spiritual longing.” (RB 49.6-7)
The joyful procession toward Easter is constitutive of monastic life, and of Christian life in general. It coincides with that freedom which is the fruit of renunciation. In the Prologue, we hear how the narrow road of self-denial broadens into a dance of delight on the way to the eternal Jerusalem:
“Do not be daunted immediately by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation. It is bound to be narrow at the outset. But as we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love.” (RB Prol. 48-49)
Again, at the apex of the ladder of humility, or at its depths, depending on your sense of direction, we have this delight breaking forth: the delight which comes from belonging to Christ in our whole being:
“Now, therefore, after ascending all these steps of humility, the monk will quickly arrive at that perfect love of God which casts out fear (I John 4:18). Through this love, all that he once performed with dread, he will now begin to observe without effort, as though naturally, from habit, no longer out of fear of hell, but out of love for Christ, good habit and delight in virtue.” (RB 7.67-69)
So delight – joy in the light of Christ – is our inheritance. But as today’s gospel points out, the sad fact is that sometimes we prefer darkness to light:
“And this is the verdict, that the light came into the world,
but people preferred darkness to light, because their works were evil.” (Jn 3:19)
How do we choose darkness over light?
Evagrius speaks in poetic form of the vice of sadness and opposes it to the virtue of joy. While there may be different causes of sadness, not all of them subject to our will, I think it is well worth pondering the extent to which we choose our misery, and so if we become aware of this, we can also choose its opposite: joy.
“Sadness is the one who dwells over loss, who is familiar with frustrated acquisition, a forerunner of exile, remembrance of family, a deputy of want, a kinsman of acedia, a complaint of exasperation, a reminder of insult, and a darkening of the soul, dejection of morals, drunkenness of prudence, a soporific remedy, a cloud of form, a worm in the flesh, sadness of thoughts, a people in captivity.
Joy is the destruction of sorrow and thanksgiving for misfortunes, a vision that comes from prayers and gladness that comes from ascetic works, happiness from doing good, an ornament of renunciation, a receptacle of hospitality, a refuge of hopes, nourishment of ascetics, an encouragement of mourners, a consolation for tears, a help for affliction, a supporter of love, a partner in patience.”
(Evagrius of Pontus, On the Vices Opposed to the Virtues)
The rejection of light can also take the form of envy; the light that shines out from another person, from their gifts and virtues, can become offensive to us because of some failure in them, or something they have done to us, or even simply because we feel threatened by their brightness. Evagrius again opposes the vice to the virtue. Envy is “the coveting of cheerfulness, the feigning of friendship, treachery in confidence, hatred of love, envy of people highly esteemed,” whereas freedom from envy is a “friend of cheerfulness, sincerity in friendship, purity in confidence, harmony with love, gladness for people highly esteemed.”
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could bask under the light of beauty and goodness wherever we find it, as St Benedict advises: “Let us open our eyes to the light that comes from God (RB Prol. 9). This deifying light is refracted through our brothers and sisters, if we are open to seeing it.
The source of our joy, of our freedom from captivity to the sadness of sin and death, is Christ, the Son of Man lifted up so that we may see him and be healed:
“Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” (Jn 3:14-15)
This is the logic of the incarnation: it is the beauty of God which attracts us, the scandalous beauty of God, who has drawn near to us, so near as to be one with us in our flesh, even unto death on a cross. Today we are invited to look on him who we have pierced, the one who is pierced like us, not in fear but in awestruck love, because he comes not in judgment but in mercy.
Recently, I have been discovering the Odes of Solomon, a collection of psalms and hymns from a second-century Jewish-Christian source. I will leave you with two excerpts that serve to lift up the Son of Man before our gaze:
“His love for me brought low his greatness.
He made himself like me so that I might receive him.
He made himself like me so that I might be clothed in him.
I had no fear when I saw him,
For he is mercy for me.
He took my nature so that I might understand him,
My face so that I should not turn away from him.”
(Odes of Solomon, 7)
“Who can understand love
But he who loves?
I am united with my beloved,
My soul loves him.
In his peace,
That is where I am.
I am no longer a stranger,
For there is not hatred
With the Lord.
Because I love the Son
I shall become a son.
To cling to him who dies no more
Is to become immortal.
He who delights in life
Shall be alive.
(Odes of Solomon, 3)