I have found that, in many instances, people who do not share the faith I ascribe to have been instrumental in shoring up that faith. Alain de Botton is one of these people for me. de Botton is, by his own description, someone who does not count himself a churchgoer, a Christian, a believer. It is interesting, then, that his writing and his philosophical observation has a high regard for faith, at least for faith at its best. He does not write from within the circle of religion or church, but a good deal of his writing reminds his readers of the worth and value and dignity of religion and even of church.
A friend and I were recently speaking about melancholy, that kind of sadness that is not always easy to hold, but that is far away from emptiness. Our conversation was in reference to the Tracy Chapman song Fast Car that she and Luke Combs, who recently covered the 1988 song, performed live at this year’s Grammy Awards ceremony. My friend and I agreed that the song pulls you in right away because it is so easy to identify with the melancholy sound of the opening and repeated notes. There is sadness in the song, to be sure, but it is not sadness without hope. The song, even without resolution, is aspirational as is the image of the freedom of driving as described.
As we listened to the song, my friend ran to his bookshelf and pulled down Alain de Botton’s book, School of Life. He then read me this quote about melancholy: “Melancholy is not rage or bitterness; it is a noble species of sadness that arises when we are properly open to the idea that suffering and disappointment are at the heart of the human experience.”
If we are human, we will experience melancholy at times. Some people, by nature, are more generally melancholic in temperament. It’s not necessarily something that you want to feel all of the time, but when you know that it’s okay to not feel okay, that can be freeing. The “noble sadness” that de Botton speaks of can actually help you to feel alive and grateful, even in the midst of uncertainty.
de Botton continues: “It is not a disorder that needs to be cured; it is a tender-hearted, calm, dispassionate acknowledgment of how much agony we will inevitably have to travel through.”
So, a prayer:
Dear God,
Thank you for melancholy. I pray for those who feel this noble sadness, that they would also know strength and peace in the midst. Forgive us for insisting upon happiness to the point of façade. Bless those who prefer the cloudy days and thank you that we are not alone.
Amen