Happiness is a perplexingly difficult quality to secure. This is surprising, since happiness is the fundamental thing we all seek. Aristotle argued that happiness (eudaimonia) is the ultimate goal of human life—not happiness as a fleeting emotional experience, but as a state of human flourishing that comes from striving to fulfill one’s human potential. St. Augustine taught that all human actions are inherently ordered towards happiness—even wicked deeds are done in the mistaken belief that they will, in some sense, make us happier.
But if happiness is so integral to human existence, why do so many people struggle to attain it? Why is society so filled with people struggling with sadness, despair, depression, nihilism, despair, and apathy? Why do so many at every stage of life deal with existential emptiness about the meaning and purpose of their lives? If happiness is what life is all about, it seems that something must be drastically wrong.
I, too, struggled with these problems for many years until I discovered a very simple remedy in plain sight, somewhere I had overlooked for a long time—the Sermon on the Mount.
There are many things that can rob us of our happiness. Financial troubles. Stressful work deadlines. Strained relationships. A broken automobile. But what do all these situations have in common that diminish our happiness?
In Matthew 6, Jesus astutely identifies anxiety as the fundamental enemy of happiness. His sayings on anxiety are well known, perhaps so much so that we are numb to their import. Let’s review our Lord’s teaching in the Sermon on the Mount:
Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life? (Mt. 6:25-27)
In all of life’s stressful situations, it is anxiety that unnerves us. Jesus here reminds us that anxiety is an excessive focus on things we have little control over. We are prognosticating future negative outcomes that don’t yet exist. “What shall we eat?” and “What shall we wear?” and so on are simply euphemisms for “How will I pay the bills?” “How can I meet this deadline?” “When will the car be fixed?” Yet Jesus says that anxiety helps nothing: “Which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to the span of his life?”
All well and good, Lord, but how do I let go of my anxiety? If I find myself going down mental black holes of worry, how can I actually break free of this habit?
Everyone’s individual struggle with anxiety is unique; for some, the problem is compounded by mental health challenges that make it difficult to give an answer that is universally applicable. I can say, however, that the next passage of the sermon was instrumental in my own quest for happiness:
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek all these things; and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day. (Mt. 6:28-35, RSVCE)
There are a few things here that merit unpacking. First, “If God so clothes the grass of the field . . . will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?” This does not mean that God will necessarily solve all our difficulties if we just sit back and chill. Rather, it means that whatever happens, we will be alright—with the right perspective. If you think back to the stressful moments of your life, you will see that the fear of that situation experienced beforehand was often worse than the moment itself. Our fear tends to amplify matters far beyond what circumstance merits. When anxiety comes knocking, the appropriate response is to say, “I will be okay.” You may not be okay the way you’d like, but you will get by.
Second, Jesus asks us to “seek first his kingdom and its righteousness.” This means that He wants us to try to see our anxieties in light of the big picture. Even highly stressful situations like family drama or financial catastrophe are not as terrifying in light of God’s overall purpose for our life. Sometimes a meditation on the brevity of time alone is sufficient to calm such anxieties. King Solomon is said to have possessed a ring with the inscription, “This, too, shall pass,” which he found consoling in good times and bad. Even in a human sense, time has a way of washing over all difficulties; how much more in light of eternity?
Finally—and this was key in my own life—our Lord tells us, “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day.” What does it mean to let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day? This passage is ultimately about where we choose to focus our energy. The world is full of lots of problems: geopolitical problems, economic problems, environmental problems, societal problems. There are massive media conglomerates whose entire business model centers on getting us stressed about such matters. But Jesus tells us that the proper locus of attention is much smaller, “the day’s own trouble.” What is going on in Washington or Ukraine or the Vatican is not as important as what is unfolding in my own home, my own office, my own parish. Jesus wishes us to keep our sphere of concern limited to what we can actually influence by our direct action.
Doing this gives us a much greater sense of agency. I can’t meaningfully influence what happens in D.C., but I can have a tremendous impact on what goes on in my own household. This drastically increases my sense of agency, the feeling that I am making a difference. Greater agency has been linked to greater happiness in psychological studies, but it is simply common sense—the more we feel like we “matter” in our surroundings, the more fulfillment we experience.
This is why it’s such wholesome advice to focus on the little things. After all, our lives are made up of a mosaic of tiny decisions. Happiness should not be understood as some lofty state of contentment that descends on us from above. Rather, it’s more like a Lego set, a complicated construction built up over time from thousands of tiny blocks (i.e., small, daily choices within our immediate sphere of influence).
If we can take this advice to heart, we may find that happiness is not as elusive as we once thought. Recognize that, one way or another, everything will be okay. Try to see your struggles in light of God’s plan for your life. Focus your effort and attention on your immediate circle of influence. This is the antidote for anxiety Our Lord gives us in the Sermon on the Mount. Whatever your life circumstances, seek to live by His advice, and you may find that happiness is close at hand.
Photo by Tory Morrison on Unsplash
