PARADOXICAL

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. The Christian 'version' of God wants us to be happy for all eternity -- what could ever top that? As St. Augustine puts it, it is a longing that is planted deep in the soul of everyone.

But even in the here and now, the Christian God wants us to be so. 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.

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. 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."

Okay, so Christianity 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 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, the secular 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 eternal life?")

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.

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, but there is a great 'if' for that happiness to be complete as to turn it into joy and someday soon, ecstasy, i.e., if and only if they are anchored on the one quest for the kind of happiness that endures for all time.

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 and yearnings -- 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."