Sadness and Joy. I have been contemplating these two emotions for the last few months with the dying and death of my mother and the joy of my paintings. The November issue of NC Catholics had an article by Fr. Ronald Rolheiser, in which he states, "Henri Nouwen writes that our life is a time in which sadness and joy kiss each other at every moment."
The clarity of the intimacy of these two partners of emotion came into focus for me yesterday at Raleigh's Moore Square area. The homeless in our town can get food Monday through Friday at various shelters. But, on the weekends, there is no food for these men, women, and children without the work of ministries like the Moore Square Ministry, which is run by parishioners from three Catholic churches who take alternate Saturdays.
The palpable sadness of those standing in line waiting patiently for the the street "kitchen" to open was juxtaposed on the joyful hearts of those who felt called to help the homeless with hot food and bag lunches. It wasn't the joy of abundant laughter, although in the interactions with the homeless there was a bit of levity. Rather, it was the joy of helping a brother and sister dressed in the guise of homelessness by being able to provide from one's own abundance. Even that dichotomy was nuanced a little more as those with joy felt the sadness, the desolation, of homelessness and those who were homeless experienced the joy, the consolation, in another's compassion for their situation (as well as some much needed food for their hunger).
As I walked back to my car that was parked a block away, I was struck with two additional images. While many of the homeless had found seats on the nearby stone walls in the park to dine al fresco, I saw other diners eating al fresco at an upscale cafe and well-heeled patrons entering a busy, popular restaurant. Each and every person carrying their own joy and sadness, only some with a lot more sadness than joy.
All under God's roof--on two blocks--in one town--sadness and joy kissed. --musings of an anam cara