I’m writing this on the third Sunday of Advent, traditionally referred to as Gaudete Sunday. Gaudete is Latin for “rejoice.” At this point in the Advent season, we are reminded to be joyful, for God Himself will become incarnate on this earth to save us from sin and death, and confer upon us eternal life with Him in paradise. I heard a reflection on this given by a priest in Ireland, in which he stated that all baptized Christians should remind themselves every day what their baptism means; that they have been reborn, and claimed as a son or daughter of God Himself. That recollection of this fact should instill great joy in the soul, no matter how dark, unhappy, or painful life might seem to be at this moment.
This got me to thinking about why we are so prone to lose our joy. The conclusion I came to is that very often, the life we think we want, or ought to have, is usually not the one we actually lead. The disconnect between these two states can lead a soul to despair. Given the way my fuzzy little mind works, I immediately thought of an illustration from the movies.
If you’ve never seen the classic film Sunset Boulevard, let me do a quick recap for you. The main character is former silent-film star Norma Desmond, played by former silent-film star Gloria Swanson. She lives a reclusive life in her seedy mansion on Sunset Boulevard, her only companions being her pet chimp, and former husband/director and manservant Max, played masterfully by Eric von Stroheim.
Norma continues to play the part of herself in her own imaginary world, unknowingly assisted by Max who does everything he can to perpetuate the illusion that she is still a sought after star. Max writes fictitious fan mail to her from hordes of fictitious fans, chauffeurs her around town in an antique car two and half blocks long, and regularly screens her old films for her and her equally detached old, cronies. The ones still living that is.
Her life takes an unexpected turn for the better—so it seems—when a 
handsome, young, down-on-his-luck, aspiring screen writer named Joe Gillis drives into her garage in order to evade some repo men. Joe is played by William Holden. Joe knows Norma’s not completely together, and is disturbed by the absence of locks or latches on the doors in her house. Max explains that they had to be removed in case Madame tries to kill herself again. Something she’s apparently tried on numerous occasions before. Joe witnesses the macabre seen of Norma and Max piously burying her pet chimp in the backyard which only reinforces his suspicions. Anyway, let me leave out some plot and jump ahead.
Joe becomes part of Norma’s fantasy world. He “works” for her by editing a screenplay for her big comeback film and by being her escort and live-in companion. Norma flourishes with Joe around. At first, she installs him in an apartment over the garage, and then later moves him into the house. She pays all his debts, buys him expensive clothes, gives him money, and even fixes up the old place to something resembling its former glory just to make him happy. All Joe has to do is play along. After all, he reasons, Norma’s just an eccentric, but harmless old girl. Moreover, when his friends ask him if he’s working, he can say with a straight, albeit strained face, that yes, he is. Because Joe’s been frustrated in his own dream of becoming a successful author and screenwriter, he’s happy to be a part of it all…at first.
Soon though, the charade wears on him. Norma becomes more and more jealous of his friends and other interests. She demands all of his attention, manipulatively trying to kill herself to make him feel guilty. In a final confrontation, she shoots and kills him. I’m not giving anything away since the opening shot of the movie is of Joe’s body floating in the swimming pool. Great movie—see it some time if you get the chance.
The illustration I want to draw here is that Both Norma and Joe have constructed ideal lives for themselves. Notice how in both cases they aren’t drawn from thin air, or are completely divorced from reality. Norma was a big film star and once lived the life she now pines for again. Joe is trying to make his ideal life a reality too, but because of the pressures he has largely placed on himself, he goes about it all wrong. Besides, who’s to say that Joe ever could be the great author/screenwriter he hopes to be. Maybe he doesn’t have the talent for it, but it’s not something he’s willing to let go of just yet.
And why? Because both Norma and Joe are deeply invested in the version of life that they have concocted; invested in them with all of their bodies, minds, and souls. To give them up, to bow to reality, is to throw that investment away, to throw themselves away. No human being, rational or not, wants to do that.
What’s missing for Norma and Joe, the tragedy of it all—and for all of us who despair of ever finding happiness—is the knowledge that living life as it really is does not require them to throw away anything of eternal value. They needn’t reject themselves, only their unreal expectations, unhealthy attachments, and behaviors.
True joy does not come from past glories resurrected, or dreamed of glories glimmering on the horizon, true joy comes from understanding who we really are, and that what we really are is a person who is beyond price to their Creator. So immeasurably valuable that He would shed his heavenly glory to take on our lowly state just to bring us home to Himself.
Remember and Rejoice!
