A big announcement

“What? I’m pregnant?”

The angel Gabriel had just finished telling Mary she was going to have a son who would be great, the son of God, and God would give him the throne of David from which he would reign forever. “Of his kingdom there shall be no end.”

In a very human response, Mary didn’t comment first on greatness or kingdoms. She couldn’t get her head around suddenly finding out she was pregnant. The rest did sink in eventually. It just took some time. This story is told in Luke 1:26-38 and is known as the Annunciation, the announcing that Jesus would be born. In the church calendar, March 25 is designated as the day to celebrate the Annunciation.

There are many theories about such a story, as well as about the actuality of events such as the virgin birth and the physical resurrection. I suspect there is a range of ideas among the readers of this post. This, however, does not detract from the significance of the event foretold in this narrative, for the child Mary would bear turned out to be a highly significant person.

That the Annunciation is being celebrated this year, as it often is, during the Lenten Season links Christmas and Easter and offers a fusion of the themes of joy and suffering. We tend to associate only joy with the Christmas event, which Gabriel is said to have foretold, while the Lenten Season is, for the most part, connected with sacrifice and suffering. Yet there is a joy inherent in the Lent because of the promised resurrection. Sacrificial love leads to something better. And, too, the Christmas story does not lack suffering. This was the time of an oppressive census/tax imposed by the Roman Empire; there was no room in the inn; and the child was threatened with death even at birth.

These two events bookend the life of Jesus of Nazareth. The Annunciation announced the Incarnation, which allowed us to see that power, force, phenomenon we call “God” at work in a human being. Humanity, made “little lower than angels,” (Psalm 8) attained its full potential in the “anointed” or the “Christ.” The Easter event, then, was the ultimate example of this potential: self-giving love, even unto death.

And yet, these two events, significant though they are, would have no significance were it not for what came between them. To be able truly to celebrate the Incarnation and the Resurrection, however you interpret either, we must follow the example given to us by the Life in between. This is a life of self-giving love, even of “the least of these,” described in the first four books of the New Testament. This is a life of joy, as well as of suffering. Jesus inspired and “commanded” us to follow his example. He also promised that the spirit/power/psychic energy that allowed him to live such a life could be ours as well.

The essence of Christianity is between the bookends.

Perfect happiness

(In a different context, my offspring have been asking me random questions. Back in the spring, one was, “What is your idea of perfect happiness?” This is my answer.)

I experience perfect happiness at the start of almost every day. I sip fresh coffee, beginning in the pre-dawn stillness and through the coming of the light. Often enough I see the sun itself appear. When at the beach, I am out for each day’s sunrise.

It’s interesting this question popped up this week. For the first time in 16 months — a break necessitated by the COVID-19 pandemic — I just got to visit in person with my three granddaughters and their parents. Genuine hugs can bring perfect happiness, especially after so long.

Or maybe a better word here is joy. I did a little research. Happiness results from external causes. When happiness gets into your soul, joy is engendered.

When I think of moments of perfect happiness, among the first thoughts that come to mind are holding one’s child or grandchild and being together with family or other loved ones in any of a variety of contexts.

Many years ago, a peer-counseling agency of which I was director had a journal in which anyone — staff, volunteers, clients — could write whatever was on their mind. One day I wrote a brief paragraph about sitting on my front stoop for an hour or more, holding my first-born while she slept. The afternoon sun warmed us just the right amount. Her tiny hand wrapped tightly around my finger. Much of my life was a struggle at that time, but for that moment — perfect happiness.

When I first read this question, I began to overthink it. “Perfect”? No matter how happy you feel, you know that high is not going to last forever. So how is that perfect? This led me to realize that one important reason it’s perfect is because it compels you to be completely in the moment. In that moment, it is not temporary because there is no tempus.

Another moment of perfect happiness that comes to mind took place about 65 or so years ago. My family had driven all day returning home from my grandparents — 550 miles in the days before interstate highways. I remember entering my room and collapsing onto my bed, caressing it. I chanted, or maybe just thought, “Oh my bed, my good ol’ bed” more than once, but probably not much more. Then it was morning.

Disney World claims to be “the happiest place in the world.” I’m sure a lot of other places would beg to differ, and I know it’s a marketing slogan, but I’ve certainly had a lot of moments of perfect happiness there. A key element is sharing the experience with people you love.

Petting a dog is a scientifically-proven source of happiness.

Also music. Countless times, listening to or performing music has enabled me to experience perfect happiness. Or, as with other experiences cited, joy.

Signs of hope

Here’s a couple of recent encounters with people showing their better sides.

One night recently, we attended a concert by Sammy Miller and the Congregation. They play “joyful jazz–music that feels good. It is a style the entertains, enriches, but most of all uplifts.”

As you can surmise from the group’s name, Sammy Miller is the leader. When the concert began, he came out on stage (without fanfare), along with the pianist and bass player. Sammy was carrying an armload of bottles of water. He dropped at least one, then picked it up before depositing most behind three standing microphones.

The three began to play as soon as Sammy sat down at his drums. Shortly, we heard more music behind us. I turned to see the trombone, trumpet and sax players at the top of three aisles. Ah, so that’s whom the three mics and the water were for, I thought. I also realized why they couldn’t have carried their own bottles onto the stage. So the band leader — rather than a stage hand — took care of that for them.

After the requisite number of bars, they made their ways down the aisles, greeting audience members. The trumpet player, appropriately named Alphonso Horne, shook my hand on his way to the stage.

It was a great show and not just because they are such talented musicians. For about an hour and a half, they really had a good time, which easily rubbed off on the audience. It was easy to feel joyful and uplifted.

Ringo Starr tells of a time he visited George Harrison during George’s last days. When Ringo mentioned that he was about to fly to the US because his daughter was to have surgery there, George asked, “Do you want me to go with you?” Here was a man who was terminally ill and in poor health offering to support his friend.

I was reminded of this a couple of days ago when a friend texted me, expressing concern for my relatives in Alabama (none of whom she knows personally), after the tornado-filled storm that had just blown through. (They were fine.)

Certainly a thoughtful gesture from anyone. More so, perhaps, from this person, who is in Hospice care.