A friend recently shared with me an excerpt from Kahlil Gibran, a poet from the Ottoman Empire: “Some of you say, ‘Joy is greater than sorrow,’ and others say, ‘Nay, sorrow is the greater.’ But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.”
When I heard this, I thought about getting the giggles with my sister at our grandmother’s funeral visitation. Oh, we knew it was not the right time, but couldn’t help ourselves! We remembered one of her funniest stories in the midst of that grief and with all this kind, well-dressed and well-meaning folks standing in line to speak to us. She was a funny lady! What could we do but laugh?
There are countless other times our joy and sorrow come together. There’s the grief of closing a life chapter even as we celebrate its accomplishment. There are small mercies and humor to be found even in the ICU; perfectly beautiful late autumn days carry a twinge of sadness at how swiftly they’ll be done.
Qohelet, the “preacher” of Ecclesiastes, reflected on the theme with this wisdom: “In the day of prosperity, be joyful, and in the day of adversity, consider: God has made the one as well as the other.”
Our world seems to only reward joy and optimism while continuously bombarding us with messages of inadequacy, hopelessness, and violence. So for us, it is a radical act to insist that prosperity and adversity, joy and sorrow, are all part and parcel of the same gift of life. God does not need us to ignore, repress, or pray away our grief; it is part of this life, and understanding and acknowledging grief’s role is healthy. And yet, there is a freedom and joy that cannot be denied. The beauty and humor of our beings intertwines with the ever persistent guarantee that resurrection is always coming and here.
Gibran and Qohelet invite us to consider that joy might enliven and temper sorrow, and grief might bring joy resilience and wisdom. When we accept the holy invitation to hold the joy and sorrow of our lives together, inseparable, we might discover something astounding. We might find that despite all we’ve been told, all we’ve feared, there is space for them both.