PARADOXICAL

In 2009, New York City-based writer Gretchen Rubin came out with a book called "The Happiness Project" in which she chronicled her quest to purposefully pursue happiness for one year. Her stab at what has come to be called 'stunt journalism' became a hit, with millions of copies sold, making the book a New York Times Bestseller.

It obviously struck a chord among many readers. This reader, for one, was certainly able to relate with much of her experience, as she presented research findings from various disciplines and insights from diverse traditions. The book is a trove of information on the subject, with threads from Greek philosophers, American political figures, Buddhism, Catholicism, Judaism, etc., thus the quotes presented can be as disparate a source as those from G.K. Chesterton, Abraham Lincoln, St. Therese of Liseaux, and Aristotle.

Rubin's bestseller, among other things, forces someone with a strong Catholic/Christian point of view, to think long and hard on the subject, challenging his or her own belief system. This reader, for one, certainly took such a step back.

One thing readily noticeable from such a perspective is that Rubin's work is indeed a comprehensive look, but something is lacking somewhere, thus making it, for lack of a better term, incomplete. After all is said and done, it seems deliberate in leaving out essential points from the Protestant tradition she grew up with. And one of these is this: Happiness is central to Christianity. In fact, the summum bonum or whole point of Christianity is not only happiness but eternal happiness, specifically in loving communion with God and all the angels and saints. The Christian 'version' of God wants us to be happy for all eternity this way -- what could top that? As St. Augustine puts it, it is a longing that is planted deep in the soul of everyone, as evidenced by our desire for perfection in the middle of an imperfect world. For example, it is said that our desire to make and tend gardens comes from a deep desire to be restored to Eden (or the paradise we've lost due to The Fall).

But even in the here and now, the Christian God wants us to be happy. In fact, he not just wishes, but more so, commands us, believers, to be so! "Rejoice in the Lord, I say to you, rejoice," the Bible says, with the repetition being a clear emphasis. This is why Christians are supposed to be called an "Easter people": with Christ's vanquishing of sin and evil through the sacrifice of his death on earth, He has won over Satan and the rest of the rebellious angels in hell.

But wait, things are not that simple. "Rejoice in the Lord," I recognize, sounds cryptic to the uninitiated. From what I understand, it is a kind of rejoicing that is more inward than outward, for after all, how can a follower rejoice in moments of grief in this still fallen state, in this still far imperfect world, which is inevitable? Rejoicing in the Lord, for the phrase to make sense, must mean a kind of rejoicing that doesn't deny or forgo the reality and inevitability of sadness or sorrow or even panic, worry, or anxiety, among a host of other negative emotions. It must mean a kind of equanimity anchored on a seemingly mysterious element, i.e., something that is to be found "in the Lord." Christian happiness clearly does not mean being what they call "pollyannaish," or being positivist for the sake of being happy to the point of irrationality, giving no space to sadness or some such emotions when called for, as though being sad is a mortal sin.

Christianity then must be preaching a different kind of happiness. It is opposed to the epicurean version, which is essentially, "Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow, we will die." It demands, or challenges, believers to pursue something higher if they are to gain eternal life of happiness. And it is something that is bestowed, or in Christian parlance, graced, not sourced from within. As Psalm 4 says, "You have put into my heart a greater joy than they have from abundance of corn and new wine." An old Marian devotion ditty is even 'worse' in its directness:

"Mother of Christ, Mother of Christ,
What shall I ask of thee?
I do not sigh for the wealth of earth,
For the joys that fade and flee.
But Mother of Christ,
Mother of Christ, this do I long to see,
The bliss untold which thine arms enfold,
The treasure upon thy knee."

It is sentiments such as this that are being easily pointed to by outsiders as the reason why Catholicism in particular is a cause of poverty. (It is not. History shows that the wealthy nations in Europe got rich while being Catholic.) 

Christianity therefore wants its adherents to store up treasures of joy not on earth but in heaven, but at the same time, it does not entirely frown upon earthly sources of happiness like money or wealth. Unlike in Buddhism, wealth in Christianity may even be viewed as a blessing, provided it is honestly and justly earned -- a blessing that is meant to be shared to God's people, especially the needy, by the way. This is how Buddhism's nirvana is not quite equivalent to Christianity's conception of heaven or paradise; both preach detachment from the world, but the former is premised on the inherent badness of the world, while the latter is premised on its inherent goodness.

This is the reason why avowed Christians frown at the very idea of the purely secular pursuit of happiness, even when it is enshrined in a country's very constitution, as in Rubin's United States of America. To Christians, such a pursuit of happiness is pointless because it is empty, for what is it all that for if you don't end up at the right destination? (Yes, I am essentially paraphrasing the oft-quoted Biblical passage, "For what profits man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul?")

I understand, however, why Rubin avoided this tack, for it would sound judgmental in its tone of finality. As someone once put it, "Who could argue with God?"

Then again, what philosophy or religion is not uncompromising in its declaration of truth, or faith? I figure that since Rubin was already at it, why not go hook, line and sinker with it and recognize the whole point of Christianity when it comes to happiness instead of going down the cherry-picking route?

Because she left these points unsaid, serious Christians would find her work otherwise wanting in spite of the flood of useful information it contains.

But let me point out further that neither is the proper interpretation of Christianity equivalent to Stoicism, for why Catholics in particular celebrate certain feasts every now and then? And these are viewed as a prelude to the grand, never-ending feasting in heaven (which is actually already happening even while we speak), a promise of no less than joy that is never-ending and wealth that is imperishable and unfading, and the source of Christian adherents' theological hope. To Christianity, it is not happiness, or even happiness over worldly wealth and its manifold attractions or, say, consolations, that is the problem but how to use it "for the glory of God" and in the service of the Christian community.

Nonetheless, the book is unputdownable, owing to its nature -- I mean, who doesn't want to know how she did it for a year? This reader certainly couldn't help but follow her quest from start to finish to see how it would pan out. But it missed its chance to be a great book for serious Christians not because it contradicts Christian concepts but that it is incomplete. After all, it is common belief among Christians that one's passion in life, provided it is not disordered, is indicative of one's life's calling. To Christians, happiness can be everything that Rubin pursued -- after all, to Christians, to be repetitive about it, Christ already won the battle between good and evil and that is something to celebrate every moment of one's life. But there is a great 'if' for that happiness to be complete as to turn it into joy and someday soon, a joy that is complete that it can only be called as ecstasy -- i.e., if and only if they are anchored on the one quest for the kind of happiness that endures for all time. One great implication of this is that happiness, if it is of the secular kind, is not really the end-all and be-all of life in the here and now.

Once upon a time, I had done what Rubin did: survey my friends by asking "What does happiness mean to you?" or "What makes you happy?" My friends' answers were varied but hardly surprising because they all reflected my own set of hobbies and happy moments, my hopes, yearnings, and aspirations -- except for one person who answered differently and who I thought was the one who really nailed it.

"I am happy," he said, "when I am at peace knowing I have done the will of God for me."

In the Christian sense, doing what you like to do or doing what makes you happy doesn't always translate to doing the will of God to give you peace of mind and inner happiness of satisfaction enough to "rejoice in the Lord." In the parlance of Christian servanthood, in particular, "you will often be led to where you don't want to go." Given our human frailty, our still imperfect natural inclinations, we don't always know what will make us happy especially when we are young -- we need spiritual guides in the journey. We simply can't be trusted 100% with our judgment all of the time.

But there is no mistaking it: God wants us all to be happy whether in the here and now or the hereafter, for what kind of God would He be if He were sadistic? But puzzlingly, to those who do not understand, he wants us to rejoice, or at least remain at peace and in equanimity even despite outside circumstances that hardly a cause for rejoicing. And because of this, it takes a lot of explaining to do to define happiness from the Christian perspective, for it is very easy to get confused vis-a-vis other views.