Joy in a cursed world

It turns out that joy is a serious business. In 2015 the John Templeton Foundation awarded over $4M to Yale Divinity School for a project entitled “Theology of Joy and the Good Life”, the first aim of which was to develop “a new theological movement that places reflection on joy and the good life at the centre of Christian theology”. You can watch a series of YouTube videos in which serious theologians, philosophers and others seriously discuss joy. But never mind reflecting on it, where is it to be found? In a world in which several of the horses of apocalypse appear to be at least trotting towards the stable door, if not yet galloping into action, joy is at a premium.

You won’t be surprised to learn that my goto source for important subjects is not YouTube but the Bible. Even the words used in the Bible for joy have an interesting story to tell. Studying biblical words does not capture everything there is to say on a topic of course, just as studying the properties of the pigment used in Leonardo’s Mona Lisa cannot capture everything there is to say about his masterpiece. As an example, there’s an interesting story about when the translators of the Septuagint were translating Hebrew words for joy in the Old Testament into Greek. They hit a snag. Joy played a role in the religions of the ancient world; the Greeks knew how to have a good time, even in a religious setting. But this frequently involved copious amounts of alcohol and various sexual activities. The Jewish scholars translating the Old Testament wanted to emphasise that the joy experienced in the worship of Yahweh was of a different nature, and they didn’t want to import into their translation unwelcome cultural baggage. Their solution was to invent a new word in Greek which they used when referring to joy related to worship.

In the New Testament joy is mentioned 326 times including cognates and synonyms. On 141 of these occasions it is inward joy (chairein, chara) that is referenced. These words are noticeably similar to another Greek word - charis (grace). It has been suggested that there is a clear link between joy and grace; the idea is that true joy is experienced by those who are recipients of God’s grace. But the whole point about grace is that it is undeserved. Unpalatable as we tend to find the notion, underserving of God’s grace, and the joy that flows from it, is exactly where we all start off. We live under a curse in a cursed world. Hence the problem with joy.

The reason the world is cursed is laid out in the early chapters of the Bible, in Genesis. And it is no accident that the first human emotion recorded in Scripture is not joy but is Adam’s fear (Gen 3:10), followed by Cain’s anger (Gen 4:5). This does not mean there was no joy in Eden, presumably there was. But it looks like a point is being made, something is being highlighted. In fact, joy is hardly mentioned at all in the first five books of the Bible; references to it are scattered and sporadic until we reach book #5: Deuteronomy. Again, it is presumably not the case that between the events of Genesis 3 and the end of Israel’s wandering in the wilderness no human being was ever joyful. Perhaps joy (of a sort) accompanied Lamech’s hymn to violence (Gen 4:23,24), and presumably Abraham and Sarah experienced joy at the arrival of their promised son Isaac. Many in Israel were no doubt joyful at their deliverance from Egypt at the Red Sea (although their moaning and grumbling is a much larger feature of the record). However, if we treat the five books of Moses (the Pentateuch) as a single literary entity, it has to be significant that after a period of “literary” scarcity, joy does then start to consistently crop up in Deuteronomy. After a long time, and a lot of words, it is mentioned twice in Deuteronomy 12 in the context of Israel coming together to celebrate and worship in the presence of God. He is very clear that He is not to be worshiped in the manner of the peoples of the land Israel will enter but in the manner and in the place of His choosing. They were to feast and worship and rejoice. In Deuteronomy 14, Israel is instructed to “eat before the Lord your God and rejoice” (v26). In the Feast of Weeks and the Feast of Booths Israel was to “..rejoice before the Lord..”.

To help things along, Israel had a hymnbook, the Psalms, and lots of these open with joy in the very first verse (e.g. Ps 21, 47, 66, 95, 81, 97, 100), many with the idea of shouting, singing or praising God with joy. And it is in God that the “fullness of joy” is experienced (Ps16:11). What was promised and commanded in Deuteronomy was experienced by the Psalmist, and by those who took up his words in the worship of the living God. But the Old Testament is, in part, a record of Israel’s sin and rebellion and this led to judgement and exile. However, even in the midst of judgment and suffering, one of the Old Testament prophets Habakkuk wrote: “… yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will take joy in the God of my salvation” (Hab 3:18). The lack of blossom on the fig trees and an absence of fruit on the vine (Hab 3:17), a big deal in Habakkuk’s day, meant his circumstances were hardly those conducive to joy. But the joy he is speaking about is not found in his circumstances; it’s found in God.

Israel eventually returned from exile of course, and in Ezra 6 joy resulted from the rededication of the temple, the proper place for the worship of God (Ezra 6:16). Once again Israel was able to celebrate their feasts, and once again this was marked by joy (Ezra 6v22). But throughout this part of the story one is left with a sense of unfinished business. And as the Old Testament closes we are left wondering where is the joy spoken of by prophets like Isaiah. In Isaiah 61, everlasting joy was promised (v7). In the day when God creates “new heavens and a new earth” (Isaiah 65:17), Jerusalem will be a joy (65:18) and be rejoiced over by the Lord Himself (65:19; 62:4b). There was even a day promised when God Himself would rejoice over His people with “loud singing” (Zeph 3:17)! I don’t think that day was reached during the period covered by the Old Testament, and I don’t think that day is now. It is still to come.

Joy is possible in this world of pandemics and wars, of inequality and injustice, of suffering and famine. It’s possible in the teeth of these realities. It’s to be found in the same place ancient Israel was to find it – in the presence of a promise keeping, gracious God, with the community of God’s people. It is not grounded in circumstance, for how could it be? But even this is still only a shadow of a promised joy, a down-payment, a deposit with the balance still to be paid out. Joy is to be found partly in response to God (who He is and what He has done) and partly a resource to keep going in what is, still, a cursed world. But this lost world is not the last word, and in a day yet to come, our singing, and our joy, will be blended with His.

What’s so good about this Good Friday?

Just as grave concerns about a global pandemic, caused by a new virus for which there wasn’t initially a test or cure, begin to recede (whether they should or not only time will tell), war breaks out on the continent of Europe, a continent that everyone thought had learned its lesson in the 20^th century. And not the kind of war Brits have been involved in recently, whether in the Falklands (40 years ago this year), the Gulf or Iraq – wars of choice, mainly about politics – but an honest-to-goodness, old-fashioned war of national survival. A big state has picked on a smaller state, and for spurious reasons has attempted to steam-roller it into oblivion. In the pandemic we elected to follow the science. And science largely stepped up to the plate. Recent discoveries and new molecular and genetic techniques provided tests and vaccines, and then treatments, in record time. So now, even although there’s still lots of infection about, particularly from dreaded “new variants”, the fear and certainly the panic has largely dissipated. Nothing of any spiritual interest to see here, or so it would seem. And no particular spiritual lessons to be gleaned from war in Ukraine.

But there are two related things that strike me. The first is that surely now no one can cleave any longer to the naively optimistic modernist belief in the inevitable progress of humanity. For years (indeed hundreds of years) they’ve been telling us that the Christians and their Bible were just flat wrong. Humanity is not intrinsically and self-helplessly bad. Men and women are good, made bad by their environment and lack of education. Improve their environment, and educate everyone (neither of which is a bad idea), and all the bad stuff will stop happening. And, of course, it’s religion that starts wars. Do away with religion and that will also be to our benefit. No religion, no war. Anyway, religion in general, and Christianity in particular, belong to humanity’s adolescence; we can progress past that. We have progressed past that. Well, apparently not.

The war in Ukraine is every bit a cruel and violent as any fought in the 20^th century. And as for rules governing war, rules like not targeting civilians, or civilian infrastructure, apparently there’s a new rule book. The one that allowed for the systematic destruction of Grozny and Aleppo; that’s the one that is now being followed in Mariupol and Kharkiv. So far the numbers of dead and the geographical extent may not have reached the level of previous world-scale conflicts, but who knows where we are headed.

It turns out that radically improved living conditions, longer and better health and mass education, all good things in their own way, have in part only served to distract us from deeper realities. They have provided a veneer. They have improved the outside, but have apparently left the inside largely untouched, unreformed and unimproved. Yes, the war is about a bad man and his enablers and acolytes. But it’s a reminder of a central truth. There is something rotten in all of us (and not just “them”) that cannot be fixed from the outside in.

As troubling as this is, the second thing is a much trickier issue to raise, and I do so hesitantly. It is profoundly disturbing in its implications. And I claim no deeper insight than anyone else, and certainly do not claim any particular or personal revelation. One of the Old Testament prophets, Habakkuk, had a real problem with what God was doing in his day. Times were tough and things were bad. God was acting in judgement on Habakkuk’s people Judah. So far so good. Habakkuk knew that Judah had become corrupt, and they had all been well and often warned. But then God told Habakkuk how He was going to judge Judah. He was going to use the Babylonians! “But how can you?”, shouted Habakkuk, “They’re even worse than us!”. There was an answer to Habakkuk’s question of course, even if it was in part “You’ll see”. Those who lost loved ones as the Babylonians swept into Judah no doubt grieved. Those who were subsequently deported, becoming strangers in someone else’s country, were no doubt aggrieved. How could God do this to us using them?

Now, don’t get me wrong. There is a bad man at the heart of the Ukraine war, who is responsible for death and suffering we haven’t seen the likes of in generations, at least not in this part of the world. And as in time Babylon was dealt with, so will the President of Russia be. “Will not the judge of all the earth do right?”. And yet it’s precisely this part of the world, Europe, that has taken the lead in proclaiming that God is an irrelevance (if He exists at all). Either He’s made up or we’ve abolished Him. But don’t worry, because we can get along without Him very happily thank you. Now, if there is a God, not the unattached, uninvolved watch-maker of the deist, but the God who is intimately involved in this very world (because He made it and sustains it), how is He supposed to respond to all of this? 

Maybe, just maybe, as well as doing what we all can to alleviate real suffering, we also need to reflect on what He might be saying to us all, even in these current events. Maybe there’s a need to reflect on our whole spiritual and moral direction and recent tradition, and look for another way. Because the track we’re on just isn’t working. It hasn’t solved the basic problem - something deep in me, in us, that no amount of environmental or educational improvement can touch or fix.

But what makes me think that there is a God, and what makes me think that he’s bothered by any of this? That’s where we come to Good Friday. If there’s anything that shows that God is not an uninterested bystander in all the mess of this world, it is that He Himself, in the person of Jesus, stepped into precisely this broken, bloodstained world. And in order to provide a means whereby the real issue could be dealt with, how to bring about the internal revolution needed in each human heart and mind, He went to neither a lecture hall nor a pulpit but to a cross. There He gave up His life in appalling circumstances, not as an illustration or an example, but as a sacrifice. Making provision for all God-ward human failure, making it possible to break the power that holds us captive, and enable a fundamental break with our personal failure where God is concerned. Making possible personal, inward, revolution and renewal This is not a new way, or a newly concocted alternative to modernism’s (or post-modernism’s) manifest failure. It’s a rediscovery of an ancient truth.

Buried in another of those “obscure” and ancient Old Testament prophets, quoted by Peter after Jesus’s resurrection, and taken up by Paul in one of his New Testament letters is a startling statement about how entry into this different, new, old, radical way is possible. And it requires Good Friday. Precisely because Jesus died on the first Good Friday and was raised on the first Easter Sunday, it is the case that “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Joel 2:32; Acts 2:21; Rom 10:13).

Now that’s good, whether it's Friday or not.