A mother was having problems with her teenage daughter who was spending all her allowance money on perfume. “Why do you have to spend all your allowance money on this perfume?” asked the mother one day. “I can smell it a mile away.” The daughter replied: “This perfume is called Gorgeous, and every time I wear it, I feel gorgeous.” Shaking her head, the mother responded: “Why can’t you wear a perfume called Joy?”

Well, it doesn’t work like that. You cannot extract joy from a bottle.

The gospel is called the good news, and the third Sunday of Advent is called Joyful Sunday because Jesus came on earth to complete our joy. This joy comes from within us, welling up from the deep recesses of the human soul.

Joy is a gift that comes naturally to us as children. Children don’t need a reason to be joyful. Being alive is enough. Adults, who have the spirit of the child, are joyful people.

Take the case of Billy, a man I met in Sparta, Wisconsin, during my travels. I was staying in a parish rectory, but rather than spend Saturday night alone ( I was a substitute priest for the local pastor ), I went to a local pub where there was music and dancing. Squeezing my way past a throng of revelers to the very back I met Billy.

“Have a beer,” he said, motioning me to a seat.

I accepted his kind offer and, when my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of the place, I noticed he had no arms or legs. But Billy was as jolly as could be, striking up a conversation with me, and handling himself with total confidence.

“Is this the only entertainment place in town?” I asked, oblivious to his infirmity.

“There’s another place called the Lighthouse where they have karaoke,” Billy replied. “I could take you there. It’s only a short walk away.”

Driving his electric scooter with me walking beside him, Billy led the way to the Lighthouse. As we entered, a man was giving an imitation of Billy Nelson singing, ‘You’re always on my mind.” Everybody greeted Billy by name and he introduced me as his new friend. When we parted company after a wonderful night’s entertainment, I thanked Billy, profusely and said, “I’ll never forget you, Billy, for your kindness to a mere stranger passing through.” Billy responded with a warm smile.

But that was not the end of my encounter with Billy. Entering the foyer of the church on Sunday morning to say Mass, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Seated beside the parish bulletins was Billy, smiling as usual. Everyone was greeting him with a hearty, “Hello Billy.” I went up to him and said, “Hello Billy.” He just smiled and nodded his head. If he recognized me from the night before, he didn’t show it.

“Tell me something,” I asked curiously. “How do you manage to be so jolly all the time?”

“If I knew the answer to that I’d bottle it,” he responded.

“But you cannot extract joy from a bottle,” I said.

“So,” I inquired gently. ‘Is it a gift?”

“That’s right.” said Billy meekly. “It’s a gift.”

Joy is not the same as a feeling of achievement over something you may have created through your own efforts. A sense of achievement is a very good thing, but it is transitory and doesn’t last. Neither is joy the same as happiness because happiness is only a by-product which lasts while the good times last. Joy, on the other hand, is an inside gift. You can carry it with you wherever you go, and it will not abandon you no matter what you are going through.

Try to enjoy every day of your life, even the down days, like the psalmist says:

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24).

—Fr. Hugh Duffy