Impossible

(or Joy)

I was thinking about the message of the third Sunday in Advent .

It seems ridiculous in a world like this one. Where can anyone find joy?

Like you, I was horrified by the shooting on Bondi Beach. The world is a place of hatred and violence. Wherever we look there is suffering. Religious extremism, whether Christian or Muslim or Jewish or Hindu, is behind too much of the factional rage that pushes humans to murder each other. I never expected faith wars to be the scourge of our time. I never expected the Christian right-wing to take over America. I never expected Islamism to triumph over Islam, nor for Israel to believe that genocide is the answer. I never thought that even Putin could be so cynical as to use the Russian Orthodox Church as a willing ally in his own power-crazed murderous ruination of Ukraine.

Here we are. The end of another year. The planet in serious trouble, because humans of whatever religion and none, violate it constantly.

So I called this post Impossible. I often feel trapped by this nightmare called life.

I was just in Sofia, Bulgaria, at a literary festival. The Government fell while I was there. I heard stories from young people of how they had never known anything but a corrupt government and how people had just had to get to used to it… what could you do? And then they started to march, these young people, and to protest, and to get political. I don’t know what will happen or if the elections next year will bring real change.

Things might get worse… the anger in America delivered Trump and Project 2025.

The anger in the UK got us Brexit.

Syria is struggling. Afghanistan is a hellhole run by lunatics who think that Allah doesn’t want women to sing, speak up, be educated, or have any life at all that isn’t dictated by madmen.

A post about JOY?

I realise when I talk to others, at events, that my optimism is the best and the worst of me. I had such a crappy life at home and at school as a kid, but the spiritual life I developed through the church - yes, even though it was an evangelical church - was one of the two things that sustained me. The other part of my life was books. It might seem like an odd pairing, but in fact both parts of my inner freedom depended on trying to see past the material world as the full and final answer.

That’s what I wrote about in One Aladdin Two Lamps. An effort not to get lost in the literal.

Which isn’t to say we should retreat from life. Or turn away from reality. If we are lucky enough to have a decent life, a good life, it’s our duty to help others, and to work out what that means. It’s our human duty to care, to speak up, to get involved. I have said in these posts before that being clear about what you stand for and acting that way makes a difference. Have you noticed how vocal and active the right-wing is just now? And it makes a difference. Not in a good way. So if you can, and where you can, act as a balance. Be loud and proud.

How we act is the visible sign of who we are. Do you know who you are? I am always asking myself that question - to keep me honest.

Somebody said to me in Sofia, ‘what’s the point of us being here at a literary festival?’

I said, ‘But you are here…’ She said, ‘Yes, but is it a waste of time?’

I said, ‘that depends on what you mean by ‘waste’ and ‘time.’

And we talked about how so much of modern life is wasted on the meaninglessness of social media and online presence. I am much more worried about an hour lying on the bed doomscrolling than an hour spent at an arts event. Unless we have personal strength, and some of the simple virtues that are so so hard… kindness, tolerance, compassion, patience, then there is little hope of a meaningful life for ourselves or others.

There is nothing wasteful or pointless about reading literature, or about teaching kids the joys of self-directed reading. That joy, we all remember it, don’t we? A positive feeling of agency and calm. That we had the keys to another world, and that there were millions of such worlds, and we could never visit them all, but some we would visit, and what we found there would be valuable to us in the world we have to live in.

I belong to no religious creed. I do though, instead, try to take the good that is in spiritual teaching and apply it to my life where I can. The hard things as well as the comforting things. Loving your neighbour… that’s hard!

What I am sure of is that our life, and the lives of others, cannot be summed up, or understood, only by a materialist secular culture - where money, power, and status matter most. Religion was/is supposed to stand against those ‘idols’ but endlessly fails. Just as religion fails women in the name of whatever sky-god is in charge. It’s hard to put any faith in organised religion. So I don’t. But to find and use spiritual teaching is different. There is wisdom there.

Joy, well, joy? Joy isn’t happiness or excitement, though both can be in there.

Joy is still being able to see small beauties.. the bird in the tree. The tree. The way a mother comforts a child. The way children play, fearless and free. The simple contentment of your dog. The poem you read when everything is wrong. That song on the radio that reminds you… of what? Better times? Hope for better times? The fact of a friend.

Joy is more of an inner thing than an outer thing. People can sense it in us but it’s not obviously shared. It’s quieter.

Joy isn’t smug or sentimental. It doesn’t overlook the suffering of others. It is a reminder, when we need it that there is a still point in the turning world. That is still a point to the turning world. It’s not a shrug. It’s not cynical. We put our arms around each other and it’s still there.

This is not an easy time. Not an easy time to be alive. To believe in anything. To work towards something better. But we need to believe. We need to work. There is joy

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