Well, It's Not a Coconut!*

A friend suggested it as a possible topic for a blog post, and I have to admit, I probably would never have thought to write about joy on my own. Even though just seeing the word written there brings a smile to my face and a wave of peace through my heart, I'm not sure I have what it takes to write about it. I am more likely to grumble than to notice opportunities to praise God, and I check my e-mail more often than I pray. Nevertheless, here follow a few of my thoughts on the subject.

Joy.

I can't really say the word  without thinking of St. Seraphim of Sarov. Overflowing with the love of God, he called everyone he encountered "[his] joy," seeing them as they were created to be, icons of Christ Jesus. "On the Acquisition of the Holy Spirit" quotes him as saying, "The Spirit of God fills with joy whatever He touches," and that our joy-filled encounters with the Most Holy Trinity are still merely "foretastes" of the life to come: "...[I]f they fill our souls with such sweetness, well-being, and happiness, what shall we say of that joy which has been prepared in heaven for those who weep here on earth?" He reminds us that there is joy here even in our suffering, and that makes it possible to begin, even now, to live in a place where all sickness, sorrow, and sighing have fled away.

This icon is avaliable for purchase here.

Joy.

In the Holy Gospels, Christ Jesus uses a metaphor to warn his disciples against false prophets; He says that we can identify a tree by its fruit, and that a diseased tree cannot produce healthy fruit. St. Paul echoes this idea in the fifth chapter of his epistle to the Galatians, calling joy a "fruit of the Spirit," visible evidence that a person is working in unison with the Most Holy Trinity. Furthermore, The Precious and Life-giving Cross is often called "tree," not only synechdochially (i.e., because it was made of wood), but also because it is the mystical fulfillment of the prototypical Tree of Life. As Christians, we choose to become grafted into that tree, to be crucified with Christ Jesus; yet, we also will bear its fruit, which is the joy of the Resurrection. If we commend ourselves and all our lives--even (especially) our suffering--to Christ our God, we ought to have that joy always before us. That is how we can "rejoice in the Lord always" (Phil. 4:4).

The Cross as the Tree of Life**

Joy.

One of the greatest blessings of my life has been seeing how joy fills my children. They are all sweet and wonderful creatures, and each of them brings joy to me in their own way, but right now I am thinking especially of my five-year-old daughter, whom I frequently describe as "ebullient." She is almost always smiling, bouncing, giggling, hugging, sharing. (I'm not kidding. She'll even smile and laugh right after she's thrown up.) Especially at church, when she is reverencing the icons and lighting her candles, she can hardly contain herself. It's all she can do not to hop up and down all the way up there and back, with a smile beaming ear-to-ear. Some of that is the energy of a kindergartener, but mostly, I think it's genuine, 100% pure, heavenly joy. She reminds me to look for joy everywhere, even in little things. I forget that every moment can be an offering to God.

What about you--what are your thoughts on joy? Have you ever encountered a truly joyful person? Have you been able to find joy in your suffering? How do you look for joy in your everyday life? I invite you to share your thoughts in the comments section below.

*For those of you who have no idea what the title has to do with this post, here's a video.
**This image, found online, is cover art for this book. 

Greetings and Explanations

It surprises me a little bit that I'm entering the blog-o-sphere.  There is already such a cacophony of voices out here, and I don't really need to contribute to the noise.  But, the idea of having a place to write a little and have some focused conversations with friends is appealing, so I decided to take the plunge. 

To kick things off, I'll try to explain why I chose this blog title.  I was racking my brain for inspiration when I thought of the passage from St. Matthew's gospel that I quoted at the top of the page.  It describes a woman of remarkable faith and humility.  She was filled with compassion for her child, probably desperately fed-up with and exhausted by her daughter's condition, and knew Christ Jesus had the power to help her.  I want to be like her--the kind of person who perseveres in prayer;  the kind who is patient enough to let the Lord work in His time;  the kind who sees herself as completely unworthy and undeserving of miracles but who can persist in the battle against the demons anyway.  I want to be the kind of woman who trusts Christ Jesus with all of her own pain and problems, and who loves others enough to pray for them consistently and fervently. 

This Gentile woman was begging even for the Jews' "leftover" miracles.  And that got me to thinking a little about prosphora (the bread we offer at the Divine Liturgy, our Eucharistic service).  The whole loaf is blessed, but only a very small portion actually makes it into the chalice.   After communion, the priest and the deacon take the chalice back into the altar and eat up all that is left.  They do this with great care, making sure none is spilled or left behind.  The rest of the bread, the antidoron--the part that did not become the Lord's body--is distributed to the faithful at the end of the Liturgy.  Extra antidoron might be sent home with a person who needs extra blessings during the week, such as a pregnant woman or someone in poor health.  Even though it is still bread, it is blessed bread, and it is important not to let any crumbs fall to the floor; ideally, it should be eaten outdoors so that any crumbs that do fall may be consumed by the birds or other creatures.  Even the leftovers of the leftovers are important when it comes to such miracles and blessings, and should not be taken lightly.  I think I need the reminder to treasure even the smallest ones.