Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Joy is Selfish...




One of the most pivotal and formative writings for me, personally, comes from Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s work "Wind, Sand, and Stars." In this volume he writes, “to be a man is, precisely, to be responsible.” While this doesn’t seem harmful (in fact, laudable) to promote, it has the ability to be intemperately used. I know I have misused it. Duty and commitment are not whimsical and silly things, but they are also not the only things. This we must remember. To be a man does mean being responsible, but it also means being more.

And what more ought we seek to be? Well, quite frankly, simply more. We need to be more. Each of us. This begins as a personal task for the person for their own sake. Yet this Christian’s mind sometimes gets too caught up in the virtue of responsibility that it forgets that it is not the only virtue. This is what leads people to becoming Stoic. They neglect to go beyond rampant duty toward the ecstasy of joy. This Stoic formation is driven by duty’s tendency to demand an absolute selflessness which perceives any self-accommodation as vice. I am certainly guilty of this. When this practice becomes habit, the joys of life become moments of personal shame—for we view the joy as an indulgence which translates into selfishness.


This rabid selflessness, however, becomes more self-destructive than self-promoting. As Christians we are to be at peace, not constantly warring with ourselves (yet not constantly passive with ourselves, either). G.K. Chesterton reminds us that duty is not the exclusive mark of a man when he writes, “Man is more himself, man is more manlike, when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial.” We must be responsible, but we, too, mustn’t forget to foster joy within ourselves. Certainly this is a selfish indulgence, but this does not make it an evil. The evil is a question of the motives for the indulgence. Christians are not called to be selfless, but rather, self-giving. And this becomes a critical distinction, I believe.


The Lumen Gentium reads:

“While man extends his power in every direction, he does not always succeed in
subjecting it to his own welfare. Striving to penetrate farther into the deeper
recesses of his own mind, he frequently appears more unsure of himself…Man
painstakingly searches for a better world, without working with equal zeal for
the betterment of his own spirit.”

From this, we realize: a) our own welfare is not to be ignored; b) man’s power is meant to be directed toward his own welfare; and c) this personal welfare consists in bettering his own spirit. Selfish? Well, yes. Evil? Vice? Absolutely not. Why? Well, it seems to me that a person’s endeavoring for personal growth that brings moments of sheer joy can’t be wrong simply because it is personal and/or joyful. The question of evil and vice is not a question of self-promotion, but rather a question of absolute self-preservation. Why do we build ourselves up? What is the purpose? These answers will dictate the appropriateness of the selfish act.


The Christian life calls us to kenosis. If your body is a cesspool, kenosis (like loving a friend) is not all that difficult to do. Nor is it all that beneficial to the formation of God’s Kingdom. If your body is truly a well-kept temple, full of joy and love and vibrancy, then your gift of self suddenly becomes something awesome and grand. This is not meant to promote Rand’s premise of the virtue of selfishness, but precisely the opposite. It is a call to find joy in life—to take care to find joy and foster it in our lives even if it means focusing on ourselves sometimes. Our lives were meant to be enjoyed. The joy we experience could well be an indwelling of God within us. And through that joy God may be emanated into the world. We foster it to give it. We build up ourselves so that when we are called to surrender ourselves that we might truly be a useful gift for God’s Kingdom.


If joy is a fundamental nature of humanity, then it needs little justification. It might be well to ask “Why?” simply for its sake, but know that any answer will suffice. We needn’t articulate reasons for wanting to be happy, to love, to experience joy. We must simply resolve to do it, fully and unreservedly. It is selfish. But is it self-preserving? Will you reflect the happiness, love, and joy to another? To the world? Will you make of your well-formed self a gift to others? If, yes, then reasons be damned. Just feel. Acorns do not reason themselves into great oaks. They simply react and respond, being at the same time docile and determined. Acorns grow in a very self-promoting way. But they bear fruit which they share with the world and glorify God by becoming the more that they can be. Thus, their selfishness is not in vain; rather, for the world. We must love ourselves if we are to love the world. That’s what measures the very value of the gift-of-self we hope to make. Joy-filled lives brimming with potential are the stuff kenosis lives for—look at Christ (he was no slouch). Find joy to share joy. Find love to share love. Care about yourself that others might care to accept your personal sacrifice for them. Joy is selfish. Congratulations on being a human! Ain’t it great! Now, share yourself with God and neighbor.
“Praise should be the permanent pulsation of the soul. Pessimism is at best an emotional half-holiday; joy is the uproarious labour by which all things live.” G.K.C.

2 comments:

  1. How interesting! I'd never really thought about joy or selfishness together until now.

    I also wonder, as I read the post, what all this means practically. What does it mean to really live out a joyful life? How do we really "foster joy within ourselves"?

    Maybe this all sounds weird to me because I don't feel an intense drive to "duty" and "responsibility". I probably more often struggle with getting caught up in joy too often to even realize my duties and responsibilities. Perhaps this is due to my femininity, or simply my temperament?

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