Surprised by Joy!

Inspired by CS Lewis’ autobiography Surprised by Joy, I began tracing my own life journey for memories of joy…. I am a product of adobe walls, dirt floors, canvas roofs, water wells, shadows and sunlight playing among the grape vines and pine trees, paraffin lamps that made the moon beams dance, the scent of my grandmother’s hands after picking fresh mint from her garden in a rusty paint can, the sound of my mother’s whistling while we walked in the desert sun to reach the temple of Our Lady of Candelaria, and books, my companions, my siblings: Books. Books of all kinds, poetry, medical journals, the lives of the saints, and my favorite: the Larousse illustrated dictionary. Our collection was tattered, dog-eared, faded, missing pages, had been dedicated to people we never knew, and still smelled of the previous house where we had found them. We also got books from a place that rented books or allowed you do free book exchanges. Reading brought me such joy! It opened up so many windows, evoked such a sense of wonder and possibility… When I was 13, I got my first job in the local workers’ union helping to print leaflets and pamphlets on the mimeograph machine. At the end of that summer, when a door to door salesman came by to peddle his goods, I smiled with pride at the possibility of being able to get my first new book. It was actually a collection of 12 books. Each month, I waited for the salesman to bring a new book. They were beautifully bound in blue with gold lettering: The Grapes of Wrath, Of Human Bondage, Leaves of Grass, Little Women, Robinson Crusoe, the poetry of Pablo Neruda… but in September there was no delivery… and I never saw the salesman again…the military junta began to stage public book burnings and suddenly the books that had been such a source of joy and hope became dangerous. I remember the day my friend and I placed all our books in a plastic bag buried them in her back yard. That day I felt as if our very childhoods were being buried. All around us was terror, fear, getting closer and closer… For the longest time I carried this grief as my shield. I believed that witholding joy was to be in solidarity with the suffering…Now I know it as survivor’s guilt. Even after we left Chile and came to live in the United States, I learned to suppress spontaneous laughter, to speak in whispers, to cover the windows, to cut down hopes and aspirations, to consider such things as laughter, poetry, dance, novels, and even falling in love, as an act of betrayal. I was so willing to die, but not even able to imagine tomorrow… Until I gave birth to my son…the moment I looked into his eyes, saw his smile and heard his laughter I was surprised by my tears, a release of old fears, a return to joy…

In the Navaho tradition, the first laugh of a child is a very significant event. It marks the child’s final passing from the spirit world to the physical world, meaning he or she is now fully human and present with us. Once a baby has laughed, training in generosity begins immediately—a value held in high regard among the Navajo peoples. At the party, where the baby is considered the host, the parents or person responsible for the first laugh help hold the baby’s hand as he or she ceremonially gives the rock salt, food, and gifts to each guest. The rock salt is eaten immediately, and then the plate is received. There are also bags of candy, money, and other presents that the child “gives” along with the food. When I heard my baby laugh, I became fully human once again and he began training me in generosity. This tiny opening into the possibility of a future, allowed me to shed my armor and to become accustomed to longing for joy, and eventually to realize that joy is not passive but deeply connected and animated by how we relate to each other, how we build community, how we serve, how we live a life of interconnectedness; what we do to make this a more just and loving world. Inspired and saved by joy, I joined others and rolled up my sleeves and began a life of activism that has blessed me with so many opportunities to say yes to joy, to hope, to life! The Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore wrote, “I slept and dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service. I acted and behold, service was joy.” Whether it was becoming a member of ACT UP in the fight against AIDS, marching on Washington for reproductive rights, joining the sanctuary movement in the 1980s, and becoming a Unitarian Universalist minister, service and solidarity continue to guide me and to bless me with more and more opportunities to experience joy in building justice seeking communities.

In 1990 I was living in New York City. I took my 8 year old son to see Nelson Mandela in Harlem… I wanted to teach my son about the terror of Apartheid, about Mandela’s horrible 27 year imprisonment, about injustice, poverty… We wore matching t-shirts with the ANC flag and the image of Mandela upon our hearts…the crowds were amazing, pulsing, vibrant, singing, dancing, laughing, and dressed in beautiful colors and patterns, the women proudly wearing regal head scarves reflecting the sun light and reaching up to the heavens to feel the electric presence of the ancestors…

I really don’t remember what Mandela said… the reports mentioned that he was dismissive when asked about the people that tortured and imprisoned him… he said he didn’t have time for that…instead of political speeches, instead of recounting the horrors of prison, instead of hateful words or reliving the indignities of prison, Nelson Mandela spoke of joy, of hope, of happiness, he laughed, and he danced! He danced like the women of Soweto who in the face of brutal police repression sang Siyahamba! Siyahamba! Siyahamba! We are marching in the light of God! We are marching in the light of God! We are singing, we are praying, we are hoping, we are… we are… we are… and there he was, a most magnificent vision, our beloved Madiba, dancing with abandonment and silliness and pure joy! And I was unprepared…I was not ready…wait!…wait! what is this? Suddenly the tears came streaming down my face, ancient tears suppressed for too long…for buried books, for the disappeared, for the terror that took away childhood and hope, for glimmers of light that were turned into shadows, for blooms yet unfolding and cut down without mercy with the sharp edge of hateful words… and I took my son’s hand and began to dance…slowly at first, afraid to move, conscious about who was watching, and then…I let go and let joy… others joined with us, their tears and laughter unearthing the joy that had been buried for too long….Siyahamba! Siyahamba! Siyahamba!

1990 was also the year I came out to myself as a lesbian…an act of self liberation, a transformation so deep and yet so invisible and intimate… In that moment of release there was an exuberant joy, and also a quiet, sweet joy that was a balm of healing, of hope, of becoming whole… For many Gay, lesbian Bisexual, Transgender, Queer people the act of “coming out”, acknowledging and coming to terms with our sexuality and gender, can be an act of profound liberation…. Some of us our of necessity for survival, for protecting the custody of our children, our jobs, our families, could not come out shouting it from the rooftops. It was dangerous. And many here in this country and around the world still fear coming out because LGBTQ people are still being buried along with all their dreams and hopes, for being who they are… Nelson Mandela risked so much when as newly elected president, he signed South Africa’s new Constitution. The first in the world to recognize the inherent worth and dignity of LGBTQ people. This is in large part why he is my hero, saint, and window to the possibility of a more loving and just world. This is why I believe that transformation is not only necessary but possible. This is why I believe that laughter, weeping, singing, dancing, poetry, reading, storytelling, holding our children close, and falling in love, and finding joy in the every day, is a revolutionary act that can transform the world.

There are many ways society forces us to bury our true selves, our best selves, our beautiful, imperfect, magical, dream filled selves… coming out is not only for people who identify as LGBTQ…coming out of the closet, of the fear, of the old image of yourself, to liberate yourself from voices that told you that you were not good enough, that your hopes and dreams would never be realized, voices that burnt to ashes your still unwritten love letter…

What are the joys we have buried in our hearts and memories? What are the joys we have unearthed to discover our beautiful whole selves? We can invite joy into our lives every day by being open, grateful, compassionate, forgiving, and generous.

Right here, right now is an opportunity to break free, to conjure up your memories of joy, both the ecstatic and exuberant kind, as well as the steady, sweet feeling of belonging, being welcomed, loving and being loved, being recognized, seen, celebrated for all that you are… Right here, in this sacred space, in this our spiritual home, we can open up the windows and let our spirits come out to feel and share the joy of belonging to a welcoming and affirming community of faith…As Unitarian Universalists, we affirm the worth and dignity of every person with joy in our hearts! Our theology is one of moving forward together, marching in the light of the divine, with joy in our shared journey towards justice and freedom from all oppressions… In Joy, we find, we are all related. We are not separate. We are one.

Are we ready for joy? Can we ever be ready for Joy? I believe that we are always surprised by Joy and this is a good thing… For it is not a matter of preparing a certain recipe for the same result every time… it is being able to conjure up that fleeting moment when you felt held, heard, seen, reaffirmed in all your beauty and brokenness…it is remembering and believing in dreams no matter how impossible they may seem today… it is knowing that joy is easier found and more deeply felt as a result of sharing and risking looking like a fool… dancing with abandonment in the rain with your arms open, face streaming with tears of gratitude … So let us allow ourselves to be open to the possibility of more than a memory,

In the name of all that good and in honor of all the ways Nelson Mandela showed us that liberation is possible and necessary, let us joyfully sing and dance together: Let us open up the windows of our hearts, let the sun illuminate the words that we could not find, let us release our fears…and live life with arms wide open, today is where our book begins, let us write joy into our own stories…the rest is still unwritten…Axe, Amen, Blessed Be!