Joy, Joy, Joy

That title is meant to be sung on a scale with ever-ascending key changes. I love to listen to Handel’s Messiah at this time of year. Outside of Mexican music, it’s difficult to pique my interest unless I hear my old favorites, Vivaldi and Handel. Handel was terrible to his vocalists, though. The rumor goes he once threw a soprano out a window, but historical rumors are the result of the real-life version of the game telephone. The actual story is quite a bit different than the rumor. What is true is Handel’s obtuseness towards humans and their pitch limitations. It’s difficult to find a soprano who can sing all parts in The Messiah. The ones who can are rare creatures, probably with a touch of the other-wordly in their souls.*

What is joy? I asked this question some time ago. I don’t think it’s wearing an undying smile, like Will Farrell in Elf, albeit, the restoration of childlike joy is the theme of that film. I know that film is incredibly goofy, but it really is about joy. The perpetual smile is simply Farrell’s discomforting manner of passing along the message. Think about it: in elfland, the people dwell with Santa. They have no reason not to believe in his existence and, therefore, they are constantly joyful. Back in the “real” world of men, people lack both faith and joy. I had concluded these two intangibles were interconnected in a post several months ago. Funny how a silly Hollywood film came to that conclusion years ago.

It’s no secret humans get caught up in the kind of pursuits that will never bring them joy. They — or we rather — are about boosting our egos, rescuing our egos, or just getting along to get along. It makes life such a drag. But you know what isn’t a drag? Appreciating the small moments given to us by God and acknowledging his presence in our lives. I’m visiting my sister and there is snow outside the window: beautiful gifts from God. She went to midnight Mass with me and, speaking of vocalists, the church had a lovely choir singing Christmas carols the entire half hour before midnight. That, too, was a beautiful gift from God, brought to me from people who have faith in him. Or, one hopes they have faith. One assumes church goers do, but there’s no guarantee. Sometimes people just keep doing these things they assume will bring them joy.

Appreciating beauty and small moments with each other and with nature is not outside the worldview of secularists, regardless of whether they choose to go to church. In fact, there is a push for gratefulness in humanism. They seem to grasp the necessity for a karmic expression of what goes around, comes around. If we express our gratitude to the universe, as it were, we will find more goodness in the future. This becomes hope, and hope is intertwined with faith. One hopes it is. But…there is always a but.

On Christmas Eve, we drove around neighborhoods looking at lights. There was an entire neighborhood in Tigard that had come together to decorate their houses. The houses were secular: those that attempted a religious perspective either put up rainbow signs with love wins or the generic believe. My youngest niece, who is twenty and tired of empty platitudes, demanded to know what that meant: “Believe in what?” she asked. “Everything has been debunked.” Colorful lights are lovely, a spot of beauty, but platitudes do nothing for the soul.

Humanism is an empty conceit at a certain point. Even secularists’ gratefulness turns weary and pales. What do they actually have to believe in, aside from reforming all humans into a utopic vision? And then what? Faith and joy may be interconnected, but the faith has to be in something real, something outside an overarching belief in humanity and our own wretched imitation of love. Love wins. Sure it does, when it is self-sacrificial and doesn’t consider its own life and ego to be of utmost importance. It wins when we acknowledge that encouraging people in their selfish, sinful desires is not good for them. It is not, in fact, loving to spin oneself into death and decay with self-congratulatory back pats. Love wins when it is real, and when it concedes that man did not create itself. Sorry, but I cannot believe in humanity. Not ultimately. Sometimes they will surprise you with their pursuit of goodness, but all that does is demonstrate they were created in the image of a good God who also gave them the ability to choose Him.

If there’s one message I want to pass along it’s that God has not yet been debunked. It is impossible to debunk God. It hasn’t happened, and it won’t happen. That is the message both young and old people need to hear. They need to hear that their lives matter because they were divinely created, and their creator committed a self-sacrificial act to save them from themselves. That kind of faith brings lasting joy. And it’s intangible enough and yet logical enough that when men are given this message, they respond. Not always positively…but that is why joy is so precious.

*So, what is the real story of Handel throwing a soprano out the window? It is worth looking up — it’s an intriguing historical tale. It had nothing to do with her inability to sing the high notes. Rather, he threatened to throw her out the window because this particular “ethereal” being acted like an ego-driven prima donna. Oh, well. Let’s hope she found joy in the end.