Let me share with you part of my journey towards being more joyful. A few years ago, someone here told me that I’m not very happy in the morning. I brought this up with a friend, and she said, ‘Yeah, Father, melancholics (my secondary temperament) take a long time to get going in the morning.’ Thinking about it, I realized that, even in the seminary, I was never cheerful at 6 a.m. meditation and Mass. I only started feeling like smiling around 8:30 a.m. during first class.
In hindsight, I thought I was being reverent during Mass by concentrating, and I was, and, of course, reverence is a great quality! But a part of me was not concentrating. A part of me just was irritable and uninterested in other people. What was really happening was that I was using concentration in prayer as an excuse for my bad mood. I see that many of you relate to this because you don’t look joyful at Mass.
St. Paul writes today, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thess 5:16-18). Three virtues: joy, prayer, gratitude. And an adverb and two adverbial phrases indicating something continuous: ‘always,’ ‘without ceasing,’ ‘in all circumstances.’ This verse is so challenging that many saints have commented on how one can pray without ceasing. St. Augustine said that this is only possible when we continuously long for God. St. Thomas Aquinas said that we can pray always in three ways: 1) pray at the appointed times during the day; 2) desire God’s will; 3) give to those in need(!), because, believe it or not, St. Thomas says that, having received your gifts, they will pray for you while you’re asleep (Nathan Eubank, First and Second Thessalonians in Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture, 131-132)! Furthermore, in the 19th-century Russian classic, The Way of the Pilgrim, the author talks about how he went to Mass one day, heard these words of St. Paul, started pondering how this is possible, and then arrived at a solution: He kept on praying throughout the day, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.’ Not only did this prayer start giving him joy (15), but he heard about a rambunctious eight-year-old boy who learned the Jesus prayer, slowly started to pray it willingly, and then constantly. When asked, ‘What do you feel when you say it?’ the boy answered, ‘Nothing. I only feel good when I say it.’ ‘How good?’ ‘I don’t really know how to describe it.’ ‘Do you feel happy?’ ‘Yes, happy’ (85).
This story communicates that prayer is connected to joy. At the beginning of our spiritual lives, prayer is often difficult, but, with time, we should start experiencing a sense of peace, goodness, and joy.
When I mentioned earlier that I was camouflaging my unhappiness during Mass as reverence, does this resonate with you? I think we should recognize that this is a problem, probably one of which we’ve never thought before, but of which we should be aware.
Finally, gratitude goes together with prayer and joy. The word Eucharist comes from the word for thanksgiving in Greek. And, as Fr. Robert Spitzer, S.J. pointed out (Five Pillars of the Spiritual Life, 152), there’s never a grateful person who was unhappy. If we see the good around us, how can we fail to be happy?
There’s a truth in the Gospel that will help us with joy, and it’s this: our identity in Christ means we’re joyful. Did you notice how many times St. John is asked about his identity? “…when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, ‘Who are you?’ He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, ‘I am not the Messiah.’ And they asked him, ‘What then? Are you Elijah?’ He said, ‘I am not.’ ‘Are you the Prophet?’ He answered, ‘No.’ Then they said to him, ‘Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?’” (Jn 1:19-22). Six times! Because what he was doing was so amazing, the Jewish leaders wanted to know his identity. And notice his identity is connected to God: “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord’” (Jn 1:23).
This is important because sometimes we may forget that our deepest identity is connected to God. In June of this year, we mentioned how some people think of themselves as failures, and so always fail. We talked about Melanie, who had such a hard life, and thought of herself as ‘bad,’ and consequently did bad things. Finally, we may think of ourselves according to our race, or even according to our sexuality, and while those are parts of who we are, they have no direct connection to God and so don’t tell us our deepest identity and how we should act.
When I remember that being a priest means being a sacrificial victim, who offers himself so that others may live, this identity is connected to God and tells me how I should act: When God takes things from me like sleep, I should offer it willingly and be joyful.
In 1995, St. John Paul II went to the United Nations headquarters in New York, and said, “I come before you as a witness: a witness to human dignity, a witness to hope, a witness to the conviction that the destiny of all nations lies in the hands of a merciful Providence”. I’ve known about St. John Paul II my whole Catholic life and it’s only hit me this year that he sees his identity as a ‘witness to hope.’ That explains why, in his book on priesthood, there’s no bitterness about all the suffering he experienced in his life: His mother dies when he’s young, then his brother and father die; he witnesses friends and mentors arrested by the Nazis and communists; he’s surrounded by a living hell for decades, which he acknowledges, and still he’s a man of hope.
An identity connected to God gives joy. St. John the Baptist later says, “You yourselves are my witnesses that I said, ‘I am not the Messiah…’ He who has the bride is the bridegroom [Who’s the bride? The Church and individual souls. Who’s the bridegroom? Jesus]. The friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. For this reason my joy has been fulfilled” (Jn 3:28-29). The ‘friend of the bridegroom’ is the best man—that’s John the Baptist’s identity, and he’s joyful that Jesus comes to marry the Church, and the wedding banquet is…? The Mass.
So this brings us back to our joy during Mass. There is a bishop in New York named Bishop Lagonegro who would always say, ‘The Lord be with you,’ with this huge smile, almost over the top—there’s no way I’m doing that. It wouldn’t be natural. But I have seen people smile at Mass in their own way, and a few people smile gently when receiving Holy Communion. So many of the prayers at Mass indicate that what we do here is joyful.
The questions today are: Are we joyful at Mass? Why or why not? And, if we aren’t, what’s our identity?
And so, if there’s joy on the inside, then we should allow it to come out. It need not be forced or artificial. However, if the joy is inside, it will come out naturally.
Just to show you how powerful prayer, joy, and gratitude can be, here’s an excerpt from an eye witness of the martyrdom of 26 Catholics, 17 of whom were Japanese, in Nagasaki in 1597: “The crosses were set in place. Father Pasio and Father Rodriguez took turns encouraging the victims… Father Bursar stood motionless, his eyes turned heavenward. Brother Martin gave thanks to God’s goodness by singing psalms… Our brother, Paul Miki… began by proclaiming himself a Japanese and a Jesuit [There’s his identity in Christ] … Joy glowed in all their faces, and in Louis’ most of all. When a Christian in the crowd cried out to him that he would soon be in heaven… his whole body strained upward with such joy that every eye was fixed on him. Anthony, hanging at Louis’ side, looked toward heaven and called upon the holy names – ‘Jesus, Mary!’ He began to sing a psalm: ‘Praise the Lord, you children!’ (He learned it in catechism class in Nagasaki) … Then, according to Japanese custom, the four executioners began to unsheathe their spears. At this dreadful sight, all the Christians cried out, ‘Jesus, Mary!’ … The executioners killed them one by one. One thrust of the spear, then a second blow. It was over in a very short time”. Each saint here prayed to God in their own way, some loudly, some softly, some with many words, some with few.
Our deepest identity is that we’re children of God, and that means we’re blessed. That’s why, for us, joy, prayer, and gratitude go together.