I was struck, this morning, by the brief
sermon of our new (Catholic) parish priest, a small, bouncy Algerian enthusiast
(in the complete sense of the word). His liturgies are a little happy-clappy
for my liking, but he is utterly sincere and suffused with real joy – which is
both unusual and hard to resist.
His sermon was, appropriately, about joy.
As I continue my journey of faith, he said, and it’s been 27 years now, I find
myself more and more filled with happiness and light. A happiness and a light
that need to be shared.
There are still, beloved (he said),
religious – monks and nuns – and priests, and lay people too, who are steeped
in Jansenism. They wear long gloomy faces, and they act as if they were called
to bear the whole world and its misery on their shoulders. Well, let me tell
you something, he continued: we are not called to bear the world and its misery
on our backs. It is God Who bears the world and its misery! And meanwhile, He
gives us what is most precious to Him: His own Son, Whom we are about to
receive here in the communion. Those two facts alone should make us dance with
joy! (I told you he is exuberant.) If we can let that joy flow through us and
touch those we come in contact with, healing will take place. Sometimes a smile
can save a life.
Beyond Father Jean-Kamel’s enthusiasm, I
was struck by the resemblance of some of this to my own recent thoughts about
“flowing through”. I’m increasingly aware that what we can pray for,
ultimately, is to be filled with the Spirit. As I said not long ago, aches and
pains and contrarieties can open small shutters and windows that will let the
Spirit into our carefully-protected egos. And a prayer for that is almost
always answered. But then what? As it, as He, fills us, do we just swell like
the bullfrog and pop? The point, of course, is that as we are filled with the
Spirit, through all those shutters and windows, that same Spirit should flow
through us and out of us again. Both upward – back to God – and outward, to all
those people around us who are stressed, irritated, miserable, frustrated,
exhausted, lonely and – as the French say – “ill in their skin” (mal dans leur
peau).
That doesn’t mean that we should
necessarily go out looking for sad people. To me, one of the interesting
features of the Parable of the Good Samaritan has always been the fact that the
Samaritan (we might call him the Moroccan, or the Bulgarian, or the Mexican)
was on a business trip; when he found the beaten traveller, he took him to the
nearest inn, paid the landlord to patch him up and treat him well, and went on
his way. He did not set up a foundation to help robbed and beaten travellers;
he didn’t go all over looking for them. He just did what needed to be done for
a guy he stumbled upon. The lesson here is that bringing joy to others isn’t a
life-changing occupation: it’s a small but enormous sea-change in our daily
humdrumlies. As the Facebook sign I shared not long ago said: Be kind, the
person you meet is engaged in an enormous battle you know nothing about. But if
there is a Spirit flowing through and out of you, it will touch those persons
in the middle of their battle, and (to quote Spenser) add faith unto their
force. And, your smile having perhaps saved a life, you go on with your trip.
Thanks to Roona-MBH for the image.
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