The Hard Work of Sharing Joy--September 3, 2020

 The Hard Work of Sharing Joy--September 3, 2020

"Rejoice with those who rejoice." [Romans 12:15a]

Francis Dunnery is playing in the background today as I write, reminding me of the bittersweet challenge of sharing someone else's happiness.  His song, "Good Life" imagines a conversation with an old flame, and even though they have both moved on to new chapters of their lives, he wistfully wishes her that title phrase, "a good life."  "Here's to your lover, and here's to my wife, here's to your children, and here's to your having a good life, from me..." he sings, and then in the final verse offers this concluding wish, "Promise you'll have such a beautifully happy and painlessly romantic... good life, from me."

There's something about the way he sings that gives the impression he is having a hard time meaning that wish as he makes it.  Maybe it's the thought of not getting to be a part of the laughter or smiles after they go off in different directions; maybe it's the humbling realization that she can have a "good life" without the narrator being in it.  Maybe it's just that it really can be hard to rejoice with those who rejoice.

That's a strange thing to say, I'll confess.  It seems like it should be easy to rejoice with others when they are rejoicing, right?  It should be painless to be happy for someone else in their happiness, right?  Isn't that the underlying logic of every birthday party, like, ever?  Your friends are glad to celebrate with you when it's your birthday because they care you, because they are happy for you, and because they are glad to see you glad.  Right? 

Well, sure, when there's going to be cake for everyone.  It's easy to share in someone else's joy when it's going to pay dividends for you.  But there are times, Francis Dunnery's example included, when it's hard to wish joy for someone else, or to be genuinely happy for someone else's good fortune, because we get stuck thinking that joy is a scarce resource.  We find ourselves envious and entitled, feeling like someone else's win is a loss for us. That has a way of making us bitter... and angry... and self-pitying.  And it's hard to wish genuinely for someone else to have a good life if you are afraid it means you'll be doomed to being miserable.  That's the cost of thinking that joy is a zero-sum game, I guess.

But maybe there's more to it, this whole rejoicing-with-those-who-rejoice thing.  Maybe we need to get beyond thinking that someone else's celebration takes away from the world's supply of goodness that would be available for you.  And maybe even more than that, we need to see rejoicing with those who rejoice as an act of unconditional love.  In other words, even if there's no return back to me, even if there's no kickback of happiness or cake dividend like at someone else's birthday party, what if rejoicing with those who rejoice is an act of love?  What if it's something you choose to do, you practice doing, you make a conscious decision to work on, even if you don't "feel like it" at the time?

See, I think we come to verses like this and we assume that they are primarily about emotions (because we live in a time that seems obsessed with how we feel, often at the expense of how we think and act).  So we assume that Paul is commanding us to "feel" happy when someone else is happy--and sometimes that is an easy thing to do (like when there's free cake), but sometimes honestly that's a hard thing to do (when someone is moving away to another state for a new job they are going to love, maybe).  Maybe this isn't about ordering us to "feel" a certain way, because in all honesty, we don't have that much control over the chemicals in our brain that we interpret as feelings.  Maybe instead it's about choosing to encourage, to honor, and to cheer for other when good things happen in their lives, even if their good news doesn't directly help you... and even if it is difficult.  Those are things I can choose to do, regardless of how I "feel" in the moment, because the goal isn't about me at the moment--it's about building up the other person.  And in any act of love, the goal is to build up the beloved.  Love is not first and foremost about how you "feel," but about how you seek the good of the beloved, even when you don't "feel like it".

I think this is the key for this verse--we are called to love others in whatever circumstances where they are, and part of loving people unconditionally is that we cheer for them when it is easy as well as when it is difficult.  We act and seek for their well-being, not just when it is convenient, and not just when it is a back-door way to seek our own self-interest (birthday cake), but even when their good fortune comes with a cost for us (like having to say goodbye to a friend who is excited to move across country, or having to let go as your kid grows up and gets married, or Francis Dunnery wishing a "good life" to his old flame).  If I can only rejoice in others' joys when it "feels" easy, I am adding conditions.  But if I can let other people's joys be about them and their happiness rather than about me and mine then I can let go enough to cheer and encourage and celebrate with them... even if sometimes we do it with a tear forming in the corner of our eyes.

None of this is easy.  But I do believe that it is part of being fully alive.  I believe that to be a follower of Jesus means we have signed up for being more fully alive--more present to the joys of others and more present to their struggles, as well--even when the life we are brought to is challenging.

Today, let us find the courage to love others unconditionally--to rejoice with them in their joys, both when it is easy to do, and when it is costly.

Lord God, you who have so willed our joy that you were willing to endure the loss of everything at the cross, give us the courage and strength to love others enough to rejoice, to encourage, to cheer, and to honor others in their joys today.