Joy and the Rolled Back Stone

When I was 16, I had a friend whose first name was Joy. She was the manager of a European health spa where I worked. Joy was the vivacious and popular club manager. She had big hair and a big smile. She dressed well and was always laughing. She literally oozed happiness, and I often remarked how her parents had named her perfectly. She seemed to be overflowing with joy. 

I was the youngest person employed at the club and worked behind the juice bar. I was a captive audience for Joy when the club was slow. She was an only child and took to calling me her little sister. One Friday, she insisted I should come out with her after work. She had an I.D. card I could use, and she could get me into a local club. Joy was very persuasive and assured me it would be fun. Not wanting to disappoint her, I joined in. 

Joy knew everyone. The bouncer didn’t even check my I.D. (even though I looked about 14) because I was with Joy. The bartender knew her, and so did several attractive men. Everyone seemed thrilled to see her and welcomed me in. I slowly sipped a virgin strawberry daiquiri, observing the scene while Joy had several shots of tequila and a margarita. I ended up driving us home and stayed the night on Joy’s couch. As I was about to fall asleep, she came and sat near my feet. “Jan,” she said. “I am sorry I took you to the bar. I actually don’t like going there at all.” She started crying and kept telling me more. “Most of the guys you met are my ex-boyfriends. I used to date the bartender. No one there really cares about me. I have no true friends at all.” She started sobbing harder. “My parents think I am a loser. They wanted me to become a doctor, and instead, I manage that stupid club. I hate my name. I have to be happy all the time. And instead, I am f-ing miserable.” 

The next morning, Joy was her smiling self again. She drove me home and smiled and waved. “See you Monday!” She didn’t seem to remember the conversation from the night before, but I did. It taught me an important lesson–that projected, outward joy does not always match inner truth. You can literally call yourself joy, but be miserable inside.

In our modern, digitally influenced society, smiling and posting on social media is the norm. I have seen many friend’s posts that do not match their inner reality. The smiling couple on the luxury boat–on the brink of splitting up. The spiritual blessing of good health, while a friend nurses a wounded knee. Projecting outward happiness has become a national pastime. We are bombarded with pressure to “look and feel our best” and are instructed to simply “Choose Joy!’ 

Sharing heartfelt moments and milestones and connecting online have many wonderful benefits. And it is arguably very beneficial to see the glass half full and lead an optimistic life–yet true joy is more than social media likes and more than just a choice. 

The Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu offers us 8 pillars of Joy. Perspective, humility, humor, acceptance, forgiveness, gratitude, compassion, and generosity. All of these are beautiful attributes and ways to work toward happiness–yet what if true joy requires less work and more surrender? What if joy has already been atoned for us and we simply need to accept it as a divine gift? 

As my spiritual awareness has grown, I have come to believe that true joy is achieved by accepting it as a divine gift through faith–deep faith obtained through hooking into the Creator’s limitless love–even when situations seem less than blissful. Joy is ours regardless of bad news or health challenges. Joy is ours regardless of what other people think. Joy provides spiritual dividends when the stock market dips, our car breaks down, and war breaks out. As crazy as it sounds, joy is our birthright.

A potential hindrance to accepting this birthright and internalizing limitless joy is the time-tested practice of “the powers that be” limiting divine truth in an attempt to subjugate the population. 

As much as I enjoyed aspects of my time in the Catholic Church–the respect for Mother Mary, the reverence for Jesus, the ceremonies, frankincense, and biblical teachings–some of the concepts caused me concern. The fact that some books of the bible were removed and deemed unfit for the common people speaks volumes. Many references to the concept of angels walking among us and helping us were removed, fostering dependence on a priest or cardinal for access that we are naturally granted. The Book of Enoch, for example, tells the glorious tale of a devout and godly man taken up to heaven and literally turned into an angel. Whether you feel the cosmic truth of this book or not, the mere idea that this is possible might cause religious or political leaders concern. In addition, focusing on suffering instead of celebrating the nature of our souls’ ability to overcome death keeps us shrouded in fear. 

I remember staring at the crucifix at the front of the church altar as a teenager. Seeing the nails in Jesus’ hands and feet and the crown of thorns on his head made me sad. Yes, the story of Jesus’ crucifixion is a profound and incredible example of faith in action. It is the divine fulfillment of prophecy. But what if the same entities that omitted esoteric, wisdom-based books from the bible also missed the mark by placing an emphasis on suffering, instead of life after death? What if the message of the empty tomb and the rolled back stone is the foundation of true joy–and focusing on “carrying our cross” is a limiting human construct?

I sometimes like to re-imagine a beautiful scene as the focal point on the altar of my favorite church. I envision a brightly colored, celebratory painting. An empty tomb and a rolled back stone with two beautiful angels sitting on top of it. Jesus levitating above the tomb in his celestial form and the women kneeling in gratitude–a message of utmost joy and promise of our souls’ ascension, replacing suffering and death. 

The good news that death holds no power over us and the challenges of Earth are temporary creates deep faith. Deep faith creates worthiness and a sense of inner joy that outward circumstances can’t touch. The less we allow outside influences to crucify our inner peace, the more we can hook into the miracle of our soul’s connection to God and embody authentic joy.

As I think back on personal lessons, I remember my friend Joy. I hope she found a way to lay down the cross of her parents’ expectations and embrace her own self-worth. I like to think she learned to love herself, connect with her higher power, and embody true joy. 

We each have the opportunity and choice to focus on the heaviness of our cross–or the miraculous message of the rolled back stone. As we continue to collectively awaken and Earth’s timeline accelerates, we must lay down the cross of any trauma, pain, and suffering and take up the armor of Truth. We must practice relying on God’s love as our compass–refusting to let bad news or circumstances knock us off course. Carrying our cross and experiencing challenges is part of the journey on Earth–but it is not the journey’s end. We must focus on the message of the rolled back stone–and be authentic joy in the world.