“Gloomy” is an interesting word. It’s close to being a onomatopoeia, a word that forms a sound like it means, such as “sizzle,” or “pop.” “Glooooooomy” almost makes you depressed just saying it.
It's easy to be gloomy at this time of year. Even today, it’s a bit overcast, and we’re just starting Lent, a season of fasting and almsgiving. Easter and Easter Break are a long way off.
Gloomy people are unattractive for a number of reasons. When we are at our gloomiest, we are at our ugliest. Our face contorts, our shoulders slump, our “vibe” is bad, and worst of all, our gloom brings others down. People don’t want to be around gloomy people—they are like dementors from Harry Potter that suck out our souls.
My wife and I were watching a TV show recently, and she said, out of the blue, “That may be the ugliest actor I’ve ever seen.” I had not noticed, but as I relooked at him and thought about it, I could see what she meant! But over the course of the show, he was transformed, and part of the “technique” he and the director used to convey that transformation was he began to smile more—and when he smiled, his countenance changed, and he became much more pleasant to look at.
We’ve all seen the “before” and “after” pictures when companies advertise the effectiveness of their diet plans. Notice that in the “before” pic, the person is always portrayed as unhappy, frowning, face contorted, but in the “after” pic, he or she is always smiling. Smiling makes us more attractive.
As it turns out, joyful people are magnets. They lift up our spirits. There’s a kind of radiance on their faces.
God wants us to be joyful!
“But I don’t feel joyful,” Mr. Weber. “I can’t help how I feel.”
Actually, we CAN help how we feel, and Jesus gives us that secret “life hack” as to how, over and over again in the gospels: “Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.” Put others first, he says. Turns out when we do that, it changes our mood. It makes us smile more. Other people want to be around us more. We feel more powerful in that we can impact more people.
Psychiatrists call it “bracketing,” when we can put ourselves off to the side, focus on others and enter into someone else’s world on his or her terms.
I once listened to a beautiful piece on public radio about a middle aged man who took in his mother in law with severe Alzheimer’s to live with them. Alzheimers is a deterioration of the brain, where a person loses his or her memory, and in so doing, loses any real sense of self. His mother in law had been a very conservative, Christian woman, but in her advanced stages, she had taken to cursing. “I want some more ice cream, “ she’d say. Concerned for her weight, they’d tell her, “Mom, we’re all just having one serving." “ Give me more god d——- ice cream!” she’d scream back, in the presence of their young children.
And they found themselves often needing to correct her. Pointing to a picture on the wall, she’d say, “President Reagan was a good president.” But they’d respond, “Mom, that’s your husband of 45 years, named Jim. That’s not President Reagan.” And she’d always be unhappy, constantly getting it wrong. Which would make her curse all the more.
It got to the point that they didn’t know what to do, and they were thinking of moving her to a nursing home. But they began reading on caring for Alzheimer’s patients, and one of the books recommended “bracketing,” or moving into her world, however fantastical, however non-sensical, and engaging with her on her terms.
Shortly thereafter, their mother looked outside at the birds in the trees, and said “Look, the monkeys are back.” The son in law, almost corrected her, then remembered, and said “Back already? It seems like they’ve come early this year.” “No,” she corrected him, “this is about the time they always come. I wonder why they’re not wearing any clothes.” “Should we try to dress them?” He continued. “No, no, she said, “they’re too messy. And so went the conversation. But at the end of it, the mother felt better about herself—she’d had a real conversation with someone. It was healing. The more they "bracketed," the less she cursed, and the happier she seemed before she eventually passed away.
I was very moved by this story—about a husband's love for his wife, so much so that he was willing to take in his mother in law with severe Alzheimer's, and his kindness to her in her advanced state.
But we can “bracket” too—though not as profoundly—by simply putting our egos aside and engaging with others on their terms. Doesn’t need to be too profound: “Hey, great hit last night. “ “Hey, that comment you made in class was really. Interesting, I’ve been thinking about it.” Or, “That’s a really nice shirt, or dress, or ensemble you’re wearing. “Hey, can I help you with that?”
Heck, we can just smile at people more, even if we don’t feel like it.
Here’s what happens. When we do that, when we focus on others, we become more joyful people. Our countenance changes. Smiling begets more smiling. Our faces become more beautiful, and we become more attractive to others.
May all of us become less gloomy this Lent by becoming more other-centered.
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