Traditionally, at least in my denomination, each week of Advent is given a theme, and the idea is you reflect on that theme, you think about how you can either work for that thing, or inject more of it into your own life (on the presumption, for example, that if you are living as a more-loving individual, that will increase the balance of love in the world, and make it better for others, at least those around you).
The themes are Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. In that order. So the first week (December 3) was Hope; this week is Peace. Next week is Joy (we, like many congregations, have a special pink candle for this week - the other weeks get purple, the color of Advent).
And I was thinking about that yesterday after church. Of all four of those things, I have the hardest time, I think, with Joy. (Of late, at times I've had a hard time with Hope, as well). I mean, having a hard time feeling it. I am not a naturally joyful person, despite my sometimes outward appearance. A lot of the things I do, I do because I'm frantically trying to cheer myself up or stave off feelings of worry or doubt or pessimism. I think I have always been thus: I was probably too serious as a child. I think now, as an adult, that there were so many things I could have done as a kid/tween/teen/even a twenty-something that I can't do now, and why didn't I do them when I could? Things like dotting my I's with little hearts or flowers, or adopting a cutesy nickname (I guess I always felt as a kid that a nickname was something you had to be given, not something you could bestow on yourself. And I guess I'm not the kind of person who tends to attract nicknames; at least, no one ever called me by one). Or wearing funny clothes, like the animal-hats that some of my students wear.
I want to wear a hat with ears and panda eyes on it. But I'm afraid that I'd look ridiculous or like mutton dressing as lamb, so I don't. I could have when I was 24, but back then I was so bent on seeming grown-up and like someone who could HANDLE doing a Ph.D. that I probably wouldn't have.
And anyway. All of those outward things - the hearts to dot i's, the silly hats,the nicknames - would have not matched with the inner tendency towards seriousness and anxiety. And I know, I know: that's not in keeping with my faith, but I think it's also part of my "hardwiring" so I don't know where the two intersect. And I suppose on some level the world needs its share of more-serious people.
And I don't know why I worry about it. I suppose it's the whole "blondes have more fun" idea - that somehow, people who are less serious than I am are, on balance, happier. I would like to be happier. I would like not to walk around with a list running in my head of what I have to get done in the next week and feel like I must always put duty before pleasure.
And yes, on some level I am content, and when I get out of my own head enough to realize how good I have it, even happy. But "Joyful" in the sense of shouting for joy and running around hugging people is not me.
***
I am better at Peace and Love, even if Peace, as I practice it, is very often Me Keeping My Darn Mouth Shut When I Really Want To Say Something Because I Know The Other Person Will Get Upset Or Will Challenge Me, and that's not real peace.
(I remember reading somewhere that there are different kinds of peace. The one most Christians want - the true Peace on Earth, the peace of God, because all people are doing right and are avoiding doing things that harm others - is something we won't get in this lifetime. But that there is a second, more-illusory peace, a peace that is really no peace at all because it's the peace of a boot standing on a neck to keep it down. It's why some of the former Soviet satellites plunged into civil war once the empire crumbled - during Soviet occupation, there was apparent peace because there was oppression. And yes, sometimes a desire for peace can lead to a sort of oppression - my own self-censorship in some cases to avoid rocking the boat. And that's not a kind of peace we want, because peace without freedom is not really peace).
And love. I am pretty good at philios type love and even (I would boast) better than many at agape love. (But of course: we live in a culture that privileges Eros over all).
Hope....I have become less good at. Perhaps it's a factor of age: when I was in my 20s, my life was still almost entirely before me. Who knew what I would do? I might be a great researcher! I might head up some NGO that did great good.....and then, I wound up teaching at a small, little-known university, doing very limited publishing. Realizing that I'm neither as smart as I once believed myself to be nor as motivated as I once thought. And also realizing that sometimes circumstances are a little against you, and that maybe 0.025% of people are actually superstars, and the ones that are are waaaaaaay better at self-promotion than I am.
And also: I wound up with most things I wanted, in one form or another. I am teaching. I have a job where I (pretty much) never have to violate even the most minor points of my ethical code, where I have some degree of time-flexibility, where there isn't an insane level of kissing-up to bosses expected. I own a smallish house and an older car. I have enough money to pay my bills on time and to keep reasonably nutritious food on the table. I have things that most people 100 years ago could only dream about: running water in my house, hot water without having to heat it on the stove (and for that matter: a stove that runs on quiet, fumeless electricity, rather than wood or coal). I have entertainment options that didn't exist 100 years ago, some that didn't really exist even 30 years ago....
and as a result, I've sort of run out of things to dream about. In some cases (job, home ownership), I've achieved that dream. In others (having a love of my life), I've concluded that dream is highly unlikely and probably unrealistic for me.
I'm....not sure what to PERSONALLY hope for. Oh, it's easy to hold out vague general hopes: my biggest one being they find treatments for things like cancer and Alzheimer's disease and the other big-bads that make a person's retirement years not what they had expected. But personally? In my own life? I don't know. "Getting more papers published" seems like an awfully small thing to hope for. Some of the big things I thought about at 24 - like doing Great Research - are not gonna happen, not given my circumstances (it's a bad funding time, I don't have time with teaching 3 or 4 classes a semester, and I really don't have the energy or ambition, as it turns out. And I'm at a small school with little equipment and resources and the logistics would be 100% on me). I have vague thoughts of what I might do in retirement - when I have more time - I know I've talked about somehow getting a long arm quilting machine and doing lots of quilts, either for Project Linus or just as a service to people who have tops they want finished....or I've thought in the past about going to seminary, though I've concluded that while I can do the "God part" of that just fine, the "people part" would get me down - it would be even harder, in some ways, than some of the human interactions I have in teaching, and I don't know. (My denomination doesn't do ANYTHING like nuns - the Episcopal church does, I guess, still, but something like that might work better for me than being a university or hospital chaplain, or leading a church....)
But yeah. "What do you want in 2018?" only brings up for me vague hand-waving like "less bad news" or "maybe a treatment for Specific Disease X" and not "I want to do this with my life" or "I want that to happen for me"
And yes, I know all four of the things - Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love - are meant to remind us of what comes After this life. But the thing is, we're all mired in the here and now and we have to try to make the best of what we have. And sometimes it feels like....I don't know, I'm not doing the best I can.
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