A Tuesday in Lent

Can one repent of grumpiness?

I’m grumpy this morning. The Socials are rife with vitriol and ignorance passing for civil discourse and I read too much of it too early in the day. Now, I am grumpy and seeking something that will give me life. Thus, as a content maker here on Teh Interwebs, I repent and will try and do better.

So, let us begin at the beginning. Deep breaths. Start over.

Quick question for Those Who Know: why is it so damned difficult to give oneself permission to do what brings joy? Where did I learn that joy was a sin and suffering a virtue? I didn’t go to church growing up, so I cannot blame The Jesus People. Somehow, I just picked it up along the way. People do stupid shit all the time and this is some of mine.

I am staring at a book by Robin James entitled THE SONIC EPISTEME. It is a glorious book I wish I had written. Such brilliant work. Such helpful scholarship. I’m having trouble finishing it because the joy I feel leads to grief. Weird, right? Joy, it seems, is hard to accept.

I was speaking to my Novice II mentor about this last night. Joy is my growing edge. I struggle to accept it. Joy is folly in a world of algorithms and misinformation. Joy is truthiness bound in love. To be joyful is to refuse to accept this world’s suppositions as truth while at the same time loving the world that would lie to you even about your own worth. To be joyful is to revel in God’s love for all creation.

But somewhere I decided that sadness was more virtuous. Melancholy was more honest. Did I read too much Keats as a youngster? Perhaps.

Ode to A Nightingale begins…

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
         My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
         One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
         But being too happy in thine happiness,—
                That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
                        In some melodious plot
         Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
                Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

Ha! Perhaps.

To be kinder to myself, I spent a lot of my life depressed and unmedicated. So, there’s that to consider. But here I am on the other side of major depression and some spicy bipolar stuff trying to find Joy and accept her. It is a full time job.

A friend of mine once introduced me as “The Joyful Theologian.” I cling to those words even today. No, joy is not happiness. But neither is it melancholia. Joy is not bittersweet. It is, rather, the full throated proclamation that Love Is Here. There is no truth without Love. There is no sacrifice without Love.

Today’s Franciscan Nugget: “Day Twenty Seven - The Second Note, cont'd - The Third Order is a Christian community whose members, although varied in race, education, and character, are bound into a living whole through the love we share in Christ. This unity of all who believe in him will become, as our Lord intended, a witness to the world of his divine mission. In our relationship with those outside the Order, we show the same Christ-like love, and gladly give of ourselves, remembering that love is measured by sacrifice.”

And with that, I’ll bid y’all adieu. I have taken my meds and will now have a second cup of coffee. Enjoy your day.

En-joy. Get the joy in there!

Be excellent to each other.